


The Combined Universe

by lorspolairepeluche



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fuck Canon and the High Horse It Rode In On, Gen, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, POV Multiple, combined au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-02-14 10:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13005744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorspolairepeluche/pseuds/lorspolairepeluche
Summary: Lives collide on the Normandy. The galaxy will never be the same.





	1. Wilder

_“Wilder, then. They proved themself during the Blitz. Held off enemy forces on the ground until reinforcements arrived.”_

_“And only after organizing a defensive force from a civilian population and a handful of Marines on shore leave. They’re the only reason Elysium is still standing.”_

_“Mmh. Wilder could be it…”_

_“You sound uncertain, Ambassador.”_

_“Elysium was certainly their finest hour, I won’t deny that. But they’re not quite at the level we need them to be at.”_

_“Give them a few years. They will be.”_

—

“I gotta go, Mom. We’re headed for the relay now.”

“Do me proud, Duke.”

The lieutenant cracked a smile from behind their nervousness. “I’ll do my best, Mom. Wilder out.”

“Wilder out.”

Duke took a deep breath as the vidcall window closed. “ _All stations, secure for transit,_ ” the pilot’s voice said over the PA system as someone in armor tromped past Duke’s station in the CIC. They glanced up to see the red N7 stripe glinting off black armor and put their head back down quickly. The other people in the CIC were one thing, but if the executive officer caught them chatting with their mother while the ship was making its first relay run, they could be in a world of trouble.

“Marine detachment, secure for transit,” Duke reported as the last squadron’s all-clear popped up on their screen.

“ _Board is green,_ ” the pilot acknowledged. “ _Approach run has begun._ ” Duke could taste the tang of ozone on their tongue a second before he continued, “ _Hitting the relay in three…two…one…_ ”

Duke closed their eyes for the stomach-dropping sensation of being shot through a mass relay. There was no getting used to it, not really. They counted the seconds, and right on seven, the ship’s engines quieted, and Duke’s internal organs re-righted themselves inside their torso. They let out a sigh and gave their head a quick shake before tapping the screen to enable communications with the crew deck. “Marine detachment, we are through the relay; you are clear to disengage safety harnesses.” Duke switched off their comm and muttered, “And the anxiety is clear to fuck off.”

They stiffened as the distinctive clicking of non-human feet passed behind them and the reflection of a seven-foot-tall turian slid by their screen. _He didn’t hear me, did he?_ They suppressed a shiver. The Spectre held almost more unspoken threat than the XO; while Commander Shepard could report them to the captain or just give them punishment work himself, Nihlus Kryik was clear to kill them on his own judgment, so long as he could justify it to the Citadel Council. And with the arsenal he was toting, he could do it in seven different ways depending on his mood.

Duke pushed themself out of their chair to head for the medbay. _Dr. Chakwas might have something to help._

They didn’t even get halfway there. “Lieutenant!” The doctor herself steadied Duke after nearly running into them. “You seem in an awful hurry.”

“Oh, wow—Lieutenant Wilder!”

Duke blinked at the young man with Chakwas, their mind drawing a blank on his name. “Um…”

“Jenkins!” He saluted hastily. “Corporal Richard Jenkins! It’s an honor to meet the Hero of the Blitz!”

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you too, Corporal.” Duke saluted back as Chakwas hid a smile.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Duke managed a casual tone. “Spectre’s got me a bit nervous, is all.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s up with him.” Jenkins adopted a conspiratorial voice. “No way he’s here just to observe a shakedown run.”

“And what do you mean by that, Corporal?” Chakwas asked.

“I grew up on Eden Prime, Doc. It’s not the kind of place Spectres visit. There’s something Nihlus isn’t telling us about this mission.”

“That’s crazy,” Chakwas dismissed. “The captain’s in charge here. He wouldn’t take orders from a Spectre.”

“It’s not his choice, Doc,” Jenkins explained. “Spectres don’t answer to anyone. They can do whatever they want, kill anyone who gets in their way.”

“You watch too many spy vids, Jenkins,” Chakwas said with a glance at Duke’s tense posture. Her eyes slid past them, though, and Duke turned belatedly to see who was coming up behind them.

“What do you think, Commander?” Jenkins appealed to the newcomer. “We won’t be staying on Eden Prime too long, will we? I’m itching for some real action!”

“I sincerely hope you’re kidding, Corporal,” Chakwas said dryly. “Your ‘real action’ usually ends with me patching up crew members in the infirmary.”

Duke tore their eyes away from Commander Caderyn Shepard. In their worry about the title and last name, they’d barely noticed the first name. _Caderyn._ They _knew_ that name. It had been seven years since they’d heard it.

“Marines are meant to fight,” the commander said. “You just fix us up when we’re done.”

“I know how things work, Commander,” the doctor answered. “I’ve seen my share of combat, but it’s foolish to go looking for trouble. Don’t you agree, Lieutenant?”

 _Doc, right now, I don’t want to see trouble even if I don’t go looking for it; please don’t throw me under the Mako like this._ “Yeah, sure. Constant fighting isn’t good.” Duke cringed inwardly. _Christ._

Thankfully, Chakwas moved her attention away from Duke. “You two could take a lesson from the captain. He’s not afraid of combat, but he knows the value of restraint, too.” She put a delicate emphasis on the last few words.

“Sorry, Doc, but this waiting’s killing me!” Jenkins groaned. “I’ve never been on a mission like this before—not one with a Spectre on board!”

“Do your job, follow orders, and there won’t be any problems,” the commander said flatly.

“Easy for you to say!” Jenkins had a clear inability to take a fucking hint, Duke thought. “You proved yourself on Torfan. Everybody knows what you can do.”

Duke physically winced this time. _Torfan is_ not _something I’d want to be reminded of, ever._

“And Lieutenant Wilder—you’re Elysium’s Blue Streak! You’re a hero!”

_And neither is Elysium. Oh, Jesus._

“This is my big chance!” the corporal eagerly steamrollered on. “I need to show the brass what I can do!”

“No, you don’t!” Duke said, the words coming out harsher than they’d intended.

“This mission isn’t about personal glory, Corporal,” Shepard snapped. “We have a job to do. Don’t do anything stupid to mess it up.” The mention of Torfan had clearly hit as many of his nerves as the mention of the Blitz had Duke’s.

“Don’t worry, sir! I’m not gonna screw this up.”

 _Oh, that’s fucking likely._ “See that you don’t,” Duke warned. _Okay, calm down. Knowing more about what you’re nervous about helps calm you down, Duke. And probably best not to ask about Shepard while he’s right fucking there._ “What can you tell me about Nihlus? I haven’t met many turians.” _And the ones I_ have _met…hopefully weren’t anything like Nihlus._

“Turians are generally well-respected by the other species,” Chakwas remarked. “Their fleet has more patrols protecting Citadel space than any other. They don’t get on well with us, though.”

“Humans?” Duke asked.

“Humans,” Chakwas confirmed. “Some people find turians too rigid. Others still blame them for the First Contact War. As for Nihlus, I haven’t said more than two words to him. He usually only speaks to the captain.”

“I heard Nihlus once took down an entire enemy platoon by himself,” Jenkins said, almost dreamily. “Man, I can’t believe I’m on a mission with an actual Spectre.”

Nothing drew two Marines together like an overeager rookie, Duke reflected as they traded exasperated glances with Shepard almost without thinking.

“What do you know about the Spectres?” Shepard asked.

“Only what I’ve heard.” Chakwas shrugged. “Spectre agents work directly for the Citadel Council. They usually work alone or in small groups. Spectres don’t have any official power, though. Basically, they’re a shadow organization with a mandate to preserve and protect galactic stability.”

Duke was wincing before Jenkins even spoke this time. “Protect it at any cost. Don’t forget that part. Spectres operate above the law.”

“There’s no human Spectres, right?” Duke asked quickly to cut Jenkins off.

“Spectres usually come from the Council races—like turians,” Chakwas confirmed. “We’ve been trying to get a human accepted into their ranks for years now. So far, it hasn’t happened.”

“Hey, Commander! You’d make a good Spectre, I bet! Or you, Lieutenant! You’re a war hero! Held off an entire enemy fleet during the Blitz singlehanded? That’s the kind of talent the Spectres are looking for.”

“Jenkins, it wasn’t a fleet, it was a bunch of batarians on foot, and it wasn’t singlehanded—you know what? Just…just lay off mentioning Elysium, okay? It’s not as great a memory as some might think.” Duke bit the inside of their cheek. _Running your fucking mouth again, Wilder, nice going._

“Oh. Sorry, Lieutenant.” Jenkins looked, for once, appropriately abashed.

“You’re from Eden Prime, aren’t you, Jenkins?” Shepard asked, and Duke felt a flash of gratefulness to him for changing the topic. “What’s it like?”

“ It's very peaceful, Commander. They've been real careful with development, so you don't have any city noise or pollution. My parents lived on the outskirts of the colony. At night, I used to climb this big hill and stare across the fields back at the lights from the main settlement. It was gorgeous. But when I got older, I realized it was a little too calm and quiet for me. That's why I joined the Alliance,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Even paradise gets boring after a while.”

“Any idea why Eden Prime was chosen as our destination?” Shepard asked, ignoring Jenkins’s boast.

“Not really sure, Commander.” Jenkins shrugged noncommittally. “Eden Prime's one of our most stable colonies. Good place to take the Normandy for her shakedown run, I guess. No real danger there. But there's got to be something else going on.” The excitement was returning to his voice. “We've got a Spectre on board! That's why I'm so wound up. I can't wait for the real mission to start!”

Duke bit back a sigh. _If you always think that there’s a “real mission” behind what you were told, Jenkins, you’re gonna be in for a galaxy of disappointment._

“The captain’s waiting for me,” Shepard said shortly. “Wilder, you’re supposed to come with me.”

Duke startled. “Me? Sir?” they added belatedly.

“You,” Shepard confirmed. “Captain wants to talk to you too.”

“Well, if he wants a squad of Marines when we get to Eden Prime, he could talk to Lieutenant Alenko—”

“Wilder.”

“Yes, sir.” Duke ducked their head and followed Shepard with a last glance at Chakwas and Jenkins. They realized only after the comm room doors had closed behind them that they’d forgotten to ask Chakwas for an anti-anxiety med.

Nihlus turned from the projector screen to see the two people walking—one striding, one almost hesitant—toward him. “Commander Shepard. Lieutenant Wilder. I was hoping the two of you would get here first. It will give us a chance to talk.”

“What about?” Shepard asked.

“Where’s the captain?” Duke echoed.

“He’s on his way,” Nihlus answered shortly. “I’m interested in this world we’re going to. Eden Prime. I’ve heard it’s quite beautiful.”

“We’re marines,” Shepard said flatly. “Not tourists on vacation.”

“It’s more than just a tourist destination, isn’t it, Shepard?” Nihlus asked. “Eden Prime is a symbol of your people: a perfect little world on the edges of your territory.”

_Not that I’d heard._ Duke raised an eyebrow. _What’s he getting at?_

“Proof that humanity can not only establish colonies across the galaxy, but also protect them. But how safe is it, really?”

“What do you mean, sir?” Duke asked.

“Your people are still newcomers, Wilder,” Nihlus told them. “The galaxy can be a very dangerous place. Is the Alliance truly ready for this?”

“Ready for what?” Duke blurted.

“I think it’s about time we told them what’s really going on.”

Duke could physically feel themself relax when they heard Captain David Anderson’s voice. They turned with Shepard and Nihlus to see the captain entering. “Sir?”

“This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run,” Nihlus informed them.

“I already figured that out,” Shepard shot back.

“We’re making a covert pickup on Eden Prime,” Anderson explained. “That’s why we needed the stealth systems operational.”

_Why did you tell_ me _this?_ Duke asked silently.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Shepard asked aloud.

“This comes down from the top, Commander,” Anderson said shortly. “Information strictly on a need-to-know basis.”

_And I need to know why?_

“A research team on Eden Prime unearthed some kind of beacon during an excavation. It was Prothean.”

Duke’s anxiety screeched to a halt. _Prothean?_

“I thought they vanished,” Shepard said sharply. “Fifty thousand _years_ ago.”

“Their legacy still remains,” Nihlus reminded him. “The mass relays, the Citadel, our ship drives—it’s all based on Prothean technology.”

“This is big, Shepard,” Anderson insisted. “The last time humanity made a discovery like this, it jumped our technology forward two hundred years.”

_And jumped us right into a war,_ Duke didn’t say.

“But Eden Prime doesn’t have the facilities to handle something like this. We need to bring the beacon back to the Citadel for proper study.”

“Obviously, this goes beyond mere human interests,” Nihlus said. Something in the way he said _mere_ made Duke bristle, but he didn’t seem to notice as he went on, “This discovery could affect every species in Council space. And…the beacon’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Nihlus wants to see the two of you in action,” the captain said quietly. “He’s here to evaluate you.”

“What’s going on, Captain?” Duke asked, apprehensive.

“The Alliance has been pushing for this for a long time. Humanity wants a larger role in shaping interstellar policy. We want more say with the Citadel Council.”

_And how’s a Spectre “evaluating” a lieutenant with anxiety and psychosis going to get us more say?_

“The Spectres represent the Council’s power and authority. If they accept a human into their ranks, it will show how far the Alliance has come.”

_Oh._

“Lieutenant, you held off an enemy assault during the Blitz singlehanded. You showed not only courage, but also incredible skill. And Commander—I was impressed when I studied the reports from Torfan. A grim business, but you got the job done.”

Duke felt, rather than saw, Shepard stiffen beside them, and they nearly put a hand at his back to calm him before remembering that this was their superior officer, they were in the presence of a Spectre who seemed to care more about the reports of their biggest traumas than he did them, and that Shepard would probably not take kindly to any suggestion of weakness, no matter how small.

“Why would a turian want a human in the Spectres?” Shepard asked pointedly.

“Not all turians resent humanity,” Nihlus replied. “Some of us see the potential of your species.”

_And some see what they want to to get at their own goals. What are you doing, Spectre?_

“We see what you have to offer to the rest of the galaxy…and to the Spectres. We are an elite group. It’s hard to find an individual with the skills we seek, let alone two on the same ship. I don’t care that you two are human. I only care that you can do the job.”

“We should be getting close to Eden—”

“ _Captain! We’ve got a problem,_ ” the pilot’s voice interrupted Anderson.

“What’s wrong, Joker?” Anderson asked immediately.

“ _Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You better see this._ ”

“Bring it up on screen.”

The four of them turned to see a tableau of violence. “Get down!” a woman in combat armor shouted, firing at something they couldn’t see. The camera left her, jumping around as if its handler was fumbling it, until it settled on another helmeted face.

“We are under attack! Taking heavy casualties!” a panicked marine shouted at the camera. “I repeat, heavy casualties! We can’t…need evac! They came outta nowhere! We need—”

The camera dropped as the marine yelled. The view flicked around for a few more seconds—more stunned marines—then finally settled on something that made Duke’s blood run cold.

It looked like a giant black hand opening in the sky, and for once, Duke’s rational mind agreed with their anxiety: there was no way that could be good.

The screen cut to static. “ _Everything cuts out after that,_ ” Joker informed them. “ _No comm traffic at all. Just goes dead. …There’s nothing._ ” He sounded almost helpless.

“Reverse and hold at 38.5,” Anderson instructed.

The giant black hand reappeared, and Duke saw now: it was a ship descending on Eden Prime.

“Status report,” Anderson said.

“ _Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance ships in the area._ ”

“Take us in, Joker, fast and quiet,” Anderson ordered. “This mission just got a lot more complicated.”

“A small strike team can move quickly without drawing attention,” Nihlus suggested. “It’s our best chance to secure the beacon.”

Duke barely heard him; they were still staring at the alien ship on the screen.

“Shepard. Wilder.”

They both turned—Duke realizing belatedly that Shepard had been gazing at the screen too—to see Anderson nod once at them. “Tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up. You’re going in.”

“Yes, sir.” Shepard started after Nihlus, Duke on his heels.

“Wilder. Can I have a word?”

Duke’s heart rate spiked as they stopped and Shepard looked back once more before the door closed behind him. They swallowed hard and turned back to the captain. “Yes, sir?”

Anderson raised his hands, placating. “Nothing bad, Duke. Just wanted to check in.”

Duke sighed. “I know you’ve been rooting for me since Elysium, Captain, but this?” They gestured to the door to indicate Nihlus, Shepard, the Spectre recommendation. “This is…I don’t know. I don’t know if I could… _ever_ be that.”

“I do,” Anderson said steadily. “At the risk of sounding clichéd, you need to believe in yourself, Duke.”

“Why should I do that? You’ve got it covered.” Duke managed a smile. “Ever since you recommended me for ICT.”

“And you did wonderfully there,” Anderson reminded them.

“At the cost of my healthy blood pressure levels.”

“I think you’d make a good Spectre,” Anderson said. “You’re careful and observant when you’re not in combat, and when you are, hell, you’re a force to be reckoned with. It’s why I recommended you to Nihlus. It’s all right. You don’t have to worry too much, Duke. Nihlus has only put Shepard’s name forward so far. You’ll only be in serious consideration for the Spectres if he doesn’t make it.”

Duke almost physically stumbled at the wave of relief that crashed over them. “Thank you for telling me, sir,” they managed.

“Even so,” Anderson cautioned, “don’t think you can slack off. Nihlus is still evaluating you too, remember.”

“I’m not worried,” Duke told him. “I’m sure Shepard will make an excellent Spectre before I’m ever in serious consideration.”

“Are you saying that because you want him to succeed, or because you don’t want to _be_ in serious consideration?”

Duke’s only answer was silence before Anderson nodded. “Go suit up, Wilder. Focus on the mission, and you’ll be fine.”

“Yes, sir.” Duke paused before heading out the door. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”


	2. Shepard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eden Prime mission, and our first look into the mind of the Commander.

_“Well, what about Shepard? The son of two of the Alliance’s finest officers. Military service runs in his family.”_

_“He got most of his unit killed on Torfan.”_

_“He gets the job done. No matter what the cost.”_

_“Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?”_

_“That’s the only kind of person who_ can _protect the galaxy.”_

_“I’ll make the call.”_

—

Cade cast only a few glances at the rest of his squad as they buckled on armor and hefted guns. Wilder and Alenko seemed to know each other; he wasn’t surprised. A couple of officers of similar age who had both had biotic potential as children? They’d probably known each other at—and yes, there was the mention of Jump Zero. “Brain Camp,” Wilder laughed, and Alenko joined them at the mention of the nickname for Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training.

Cade turned away and regretted it quickly; Jenkins kept sneaking him admiring looks for all the wrong reasons. He kept his hiss of annoyance unvoiced and returned to his assault rifle, magnetizing it to his back before selecting and loading his pistol.

_Commander._

He didn’t need to look up to know who was speaking to him; the vibration of the flanged voice and the two-clawed hand on his shoulder told him enough. “Nihlus.”

_What do you think of Wilder?_

Cade looked back at the lieutenant. Now that they and Alenko had drifted into pre-mission silence once again, their smile was gone, their brow furrowed as they checked the heat sink on their shotgun. “Everyone says they’re a war hero,” he answered evasively. “I wouldn’t really know.”

“I think you would,” Nihlus contradicted. “The reports say you were at Elysium.”

_Promise me, Cade._ “Doesn’t mean I had anything to do with Wilder.”

If the turian had had any eyebrows to raise, he would have been raising one. “Really? Because from what I read—”

“Wilder’s a strong biotic and a good officer,” Cade interrupted, remembering what he could from their file. “The captain trusts them to be co-head of the marine detachment for the _Normandy._ I don’t need to know much else.” He didn’t _want_ to know much else. “What I’m wondering is why the truth of the mission was kept from us until twenty minutes before we reached the LZ.”

“The information is on a need-to-know basis. Even before the…complications, this discovery was highly classified. And now it is only more urgent that we retrieve the beacon and bring it to the Citadel. I look forward to watching you in the field, Commander.”

Cade half-expected a faux-friendly pat on the back, but Nihlus only moved on to talk to Wilder. Cade couldn’t hear what Nihlus said, but Wilder’s glance toward him when Nihlus spoke to them cemented his suspicion. Cade turned away, checking over his loadout with a renewed vehemence. _Spectres operate above the law,_ Jenkins’s voice reminded him from his memory.

_Better above it than outside it,_ Cade replied silently.

—

“ _Engaging stealth systems._ ”

Cade let the momentary disengaging of the inertial dampers shake him back to focus as Joker continued, “ _Somebody was doing some serious digging here, Captain._ ”

_Shepard._

“Sir,” he acknowledged the word on his heads-up display, turning to see Anderson.

“Your team’s the muscle in this operation,” Anderson said. “Go in heavy and head straight to the dig site.”

_What about survivors, Captain?_ Cade wasn’t sure whether the question was from Alenko or Wilder; he’d guess it of either of them.

“Helping survivors is a secondary objective,” the captain said. “The beacon’s your top priority.”

Cade flexed his fingers. Focus on the mission, no worries about anything else—that he could do.

“ _Approaching drop point one._ ” The door of the cargo bay slid open, revealing the ground of Eden Prime rushing by beneath them.

_Nihlus, you’re coming with us?_

Cade didn’t look as Nihlus stepped up beside him.

_I move faster on my own._ Nihlus took one step out the open door and was gone.

“Nihlus will scout out ahead,” Anderson informed the team. “He’ll feed you status reports throughout the mission; otherwise, I want radio silence.”

“Acknowledged,” Cade answered curtly.

“The mission’s yours now, Shepard! Good luck!”

Cade turned toward the door and allowed himself a tight smile. _Now that’s what I’ve been waiting to hear._ His eyes flicked to the left, to the right—Alenko, Wilder, and Jenkins all waiting for orders. _His_ orders.

“ _Approaching drop point two._ ”

“Go!”

He leapt.

And his boots hit the ground of Eden Prime with a solid _thud_ that vibrated through his body. This was his place. He swung up, assault rifle sweeping for any enemies in sight, as the other three landed near him in quick succession.

_This place got hit hard, Commander,_ scrolled out on his visor, and he glanced at his squadmates to see who was speaking. _Hostiles everywhere. Keep your guard up._ No one’s lips were moving. Nihlus, then.

_What the hell are those?_ Alenko shouted in alarm.

Cade turned, gun already up, to see a weird, flesh-colored _something_ floating nearby. _What the fuck?_

“Gas bags,” Jenkins placated. “Don’t worry; they’re harmless.”

_Are those harmless too?_ Cade imagined that Wilder’s voice pitched up in alarm on the question, and he turned once again to find the lieutenant pointing to—

“Oh, God,” Jenkins breathed, staring at the burned-out corpses just several yards away. “What happened here?”

“Push ahead,” Cade ordered. “Weapons out.”

_Smells like smoke and death,_ Alenko murmured as they moved out. Cade saw Wilder let themself shiver once before they breathed deeply and raised the barrel of their shotgun.

They crested the rocky hill, and Cade ducked behind a boulder, holding up a fist to stop the others as he peered beyond at the seemingly deserted colony. One breath, two—no sign of movement. He motioned the others forward.

_Jenkins, wait!_ Wilder shouted.

But Jenkins rushed past Cade—whether because he wanted to prove himself, because he was desperate to save his home colony, or for some other reason, Cade knew in that second he’d never find out.

It was over in seconds: two strange, hovering robots firing faster than Cade could see, Jenkins falling to the ground, a triple flash of biotics from all three of the remaining marines ripping the robots apart.

Alenko was the first to Jenkins and the first to slump with hopelessness. “Ripped right through his shields,” he said quietly, closing Jenkins’s eyes with a gentle hand. “Never had a chance.”

“Leave him,” Cade said curtly. “We need to finish the mission.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Alenko said, but Wilder stayed standing over Jenkins.

“Wilder,” Cade snapped.

“Right.” They shook themself again, raising their shotgun once more. Cade’s eyes lingered on them for a second longer before he turned to move on. _You’d think they’d have lost marines before._ He kept a surreptitious eye on them as the three of them pushed on; he was only satisfied that they wouldn’t hinder the mission when they managed to grab both of the next floating drones at once with a biotic pull and slam them into a rock. Still, they covered their nose with a hand as they passed a burned body, and Cade nearly rolled his eyes as he faced forward again.

_I’ve got some burned out buildings here, Shepard,_ Nihlus reported. _A lot of bodies. I’m going to check it out. I’ll try to catch up with you at the dig site._

_Commander!_

He turned toward the call—and toward the gunfire. Wilder was already firing, helping the woman laid back on the ground with her own gun out. The enemies crashed to the ground, just missing the newcomer’s feet. _Those weren’t drones,_ Cade realized.

Wilder ran for the marine on the ground and hauled her back to her feet. “You good?”

“Yeah,” the woman panted, saluting as soon as Wilder let go of her and Cade and Alenko jogged toward her. “Thanks for your help, Lieutenant. I didn’t think I was going to make it. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212. You the one in charge here, sir?”

Wilder took half a second before they simply jerked a thumb at Cade. If he looked closer, he thought he could see a red flush on their face. “Uh—he is.”

“Commander.” Williams saluted him.

“You wounded, Williams?” Cade asked.

“A few scrapes and burns—nothing serious. The others weren’t so lucky.” She paused for a second, her eyes going wide as whatever had happened finally caught up with her. “Oh, man…”

“Status report,” Cade said. 

“We were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit. We tried to get off a distress call, but they cut off our communications. I’ve been fighting for my life ever since.”

“That was the distress call we saw,” Wilder realized. “But…where’s the alien ship?”

“The what?” Williams asked.

“Where’s the rest of your squad?” Cade asked, steering the conversation back to usefulness rather than speculation.

“We tried to double back to the beacon,” Williams answered. “But we walked into an ambush. I don’t think any of the others…” She shook her head and finished in a quiet voice, “I think I’m the only one left.”

_Oh._ “What killed them?”

Williams gestured helplessly to the metal bodies on the ground. “Geth.”

“What?” Wilder demanded. “Those are _geth?_ ”

“The geth haven’t been seen outside the Veil in nearly two hundred years,” Alenko echoed. “Why are they here now?”

“They must have come for the beacon,” Williams said. “The dig site is close, just over that rise. It might still be there.”

“It better be,” Wilder muttered, hefting their shotgun.

“Lead the way, Williams,” Cade ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir.” Her voice was firm. “It’s time for payback.”

“Tell me everything you know about the beacon,” Cade said as they started off once again.

“They were doing some digging out here to extend the monorail and expand the colony,” Williams explained. “A few weeks ago, they uncovered some Prothean ruins—and the beacon. Suddenly, every scientific expert in the colony was interested. That’s when they brought us in to secure the site. I don’t know much about the beacon itself, but I heard one of the researchers say this could be the scientific discovery of the century.”

“But why are the geth interested in a Prothean beacon?” Wilder asked no one in particular. “I mean—like you said, Kaidan, it’s been almost two hundred years; they’ve been practically docile. What do they know about it that we don’t?” They frowned at Williams. “What do you know about the geth?”

“Just what I remember from history class back in school. They’re synthetics. Non-organic life forms with limited AI programming. Created by the quarians a few centuries ago. They were supposed to be a source of cheap labor, but ended up turning on the quarians and drove them into exile. After that, they just kind of disappeared behind the Perseus Veil. Nobody’s really heard much from them since.”

Wilder was still frowning; Cade could practically see their brain working behind those furrowed eyebrows. But now wasn’t the time for big-picture analysis. “Describe what happened leading up to the attack.”

“We were sent out a couple nights ago from the main colony to secure the area,” Williams reported. “Seemed like a routine patrol until the geth hit us. We never knew they were coming.”

“What about the researchers at the dig site?” Alenko asked.

“I don’t know. They set up camp near the beacon. The 232 was with them; maybe their unit fared better than mine.”

_And where the hell is Nihlus?_ “Have you seen a turian Spectre around here?”

“There aren’t any turians on Eden Prime. None that I’ve ever met. Not sure if I’d be able to tell if one was a Spectre anyway.”

“If you saw this guy, you’d know,” Alenko snorted. “Carries enough firepower to wipe out a whole platoon. Luckily, he’s on our side.”

Williams didn’t even crack a smile. “Sorry. Like I said, no turians.” She jerked her chin, indicating the shallow valley in front of them. “The beacon’s at the far end of this trench.”

“What the hell is that?” Wilder blurted.

“The geth have been doing that,” Williams said darkly, eyeing the spike Wilder was staring at. It erupted ten feet out of the ground and had something impaled on it, something that looked like— “Their human victims, the ones that are still alive? They take them and stab ‘em onto those spikes.”

“That man was still alive when they stuck him on the spike?” Alenko breathed.

“Killing us isn’t enough,” Williams said. “The geth want us to suffer. Impaling victims instead of just shooting them—there must be some reason behind it.”

“Classic psychological warfare,” Alenko said heavily. “They’re using terror as a weapon.”

“But they’re all the same,” Wilder realized, looking around and noting the other spikes coming into view. “I don’t think it’s just psychological warfare, Kaidan—there’s a concrete reason for this specific way of—of killing people.” They shivered. “I don’t know if I want to find out what it is.”

Williams stopped dead. “This is the dig site,” she said blankly, staring around the empty camp. “The beacon was right here. It must have been moved.”

“By who?” Alenko asked. “Or side or the geth?”

“Hard to say,” Williams murmured. “Maybe we’ll know more after we check out the research camp.”

_Change of plans, Shepard._ Relief and annoyance warred in Cade as Nihlus continued, _There’s a small spaceport up ahead. I want to check it out. I’ll wait for you there._

“Take us to the camp,” Cade ordered Williams.

“It’s just at the top of this ridge. Up the ramps.”

Cade was getting tired of following.

They could see the smoke rising long before they reached the camp. “Looks like they hit the camp hard,” Williams murmured.

“Good place for an ambush,” Alenko noted. “Keep your guard up.”

“More spikes.” Wilder indicated them with their gun. “The bodies look differ—oh _shit!_ ”

“Oh, god,” Alenko breathed as the spikes telescoped in to lower the bodies, now glowing blue and grotesquely altered, to the ground. “They’re still alive!”

“What did the geth _do_ to them?” Williams asked no one as she opened fire.

With only three undead husks, the four of them dispatched them quickly. “Fuck,” Wilder whispered shakily as the last one fell. “I was right.”

“Now we know what those spikes are for,” Alenko echoed grimly. “Turning our own dead against us.”

“Commander!” Williams called from by the one remaining bunker. Cade gestured for Alenko and Wilder, and the three of them joined her just as the door slid open.

“Humans! Thank the Maker!”

“Hurry, close the door! Before they come back!”

“You’re Dr. Warren,” Williams realized, addressing the woman. “The one in charge of the excavation. Do you know what happened to the beacon?”

“It was moved to the spaceport this morning,” the scientist explained. “Manuel and I stayed behind to help pack up the camp. When the attack came, the marines held them off long enough for us to hide. They gave their lives to save us.”

Cade saw Williams wilt out of the corner of his eye as Manuel hissed, “No one is saved! The age of humanity is ended. Soon, only ruin and corpses will remain.”

“What can you tell me about the attack?”

“It all happened so fast…” Warren put her face in a hand.

“I’m gonna need you to look at me while you’re talking,” Cade told her.

At least her surprise at his request made her look up. “One second, we were gathering up our equipment. The next, we were hiding in the shed while the geth swarmed over the camp.”

“Agents of the destroyers,” Manuel groaned. “Bringers of darkness, heralds of our extinction.”

“We could hear the battle outside,” Warren continued, ignoring him. “Gunfire, screams. I thought it would never end. Then everything went quiet. We just sat there, too afraid to move, until you came along.”

“And the beacon?”

Warren’s eyes brightened immediately. “It’s some type of data module from a galaxy-wide communications network. Remarkably well-preserved. It could be the greatest scientific discovery of our lifetime!” Cade had stopped listening by the time she gushed, “Miraculous new technologies, groundbreaking medical advances—who knows what secrets are locked inside?”

“We have unearthed the heart of evil,” Manuel whispered, terrified. “Awakened the beast; unleashed the darkness.”

“Manuel, please!” Warren snapped as Cade turned to the rest of the squad. “This isn’t the time!”

“Anything else?” Cade asked the squad.

“Did you see a turian in the area?” Alenko asked.

“I saw him,” Manuel volunteered. “The prophet! Leader of the enemy. He was here before the attack.”

Cade shared a sharp look with Wilder as Alenko said, bewildered, “That’s impossible. Nihlus was with us on the _Normandy_ before the attack. He couldn’t have been here.”

“I’m sorry,” Warren jumped in. “Manuel’s still a bit…unsettled. We haven’t seen your turian. We’ve been hiding in here since the attack.”

“Is he okay?” Wilder asked quietly.

“Manuel has a brilliant mind, but he’s always been a bit…unstable.” Warren shrugged. “Genius and madness are two sides of the same coin.”

“Is it madness to see the future?” Manuel demanded. “To see the destruction rushing towards us? To understand there is no—”

“Hey.” Wilder stepped forward, slotting their gun onto their back and putting a hand on Manuel’s shoulder. “Manuel, look at me. That future isn’t going to happen. That’s why we’re here; to make sure it doesn’t. Whatever your fear is telling you, whatever future you’re seeing—it’s just a part of you talking. I know it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be okay, but I promise you, it _is._ It’s going to be okay. You guys are safe now. Get some rest, okay? You don’t have to be scared anymore, Manuel.”

He nodded mutely, and Wilder stepped back, nodding to Cade. After a quick raised eyebrow at them, he jerked his chin. “Williams, take us to the spaceport.”

“Aye, sir.” She led the way out, and Cade nearly ran into Alenko when the lieutenant stopped dead.

“What is that? Off in the distance.”

Cade looked up as one to see a massive shape slowly descending on Eden Prime. “It’s a ship,” Williams realized. “Look at the size of it!”

“There’s the alien ship you were asking about, Wilder,” Cade remarked.

“Yeah,” they murmured, scrutinizing it. “Do you think that’s what the geth got here on? Does this mean we won’t see any more—no, no, no, it does _not_ mean that, _shit!_ ”

Cade whipped around just a split second after Wilder, in time to see their biotic blast punch a hole through the chest of a geth foot soldier. He shot down the one behind it, calling, “Geth!” to Alenko and Williams.

“I see them!” Alenko answered, already firing.

“More on the spaceport!” Williams shouted, shooting at a husk that charged her, as well as the two following it.

“Move in!” Cade shouted before throwing himself into a biotic charge that put the taste of ozone on his teeth and him right in the middle of a group of geth. Now _this_ was where he belonged. Wilder was there only seconds later, already glowing blue, pulling geth toward themself to pump up the effectiveness of the shotgun blasts they landed in the geth’s strange heads. It was a hell of a counterpoint to Cade’s biotic warp sending pieces of geth flying in opposite directions from the pieces they’d been attached to so he could shoot at the husks behind them.

Williams and Alenko barely got there before the geth were dispatched. “You didn’t even use your gun for those last few,” Cade noted.

Wilder shrugged, cracking their first smile of the mission as they hefted their shotgun back onto their back. “Jammed. I’ll get one of the ship’s engineers to take a look at it later. For now…” Their biotics flared as they pulled a pistol off the small of their back. “This’ll do.”

“Commander,” Alenko said sharply, pointing behind Cade.

There was a single body lying on the spaceport. It wasn’t human; it wasn’t geth; it wasn’t a husk.

“It’s Nihlus,” Alenko murmured. Blue blood dripped sluggishly from a hole in the back of the turian’s head.

“A turian,” Williams observed. “You know him?”

“He’s the Spectre we were looking for,” Wilder said quietly as Alenko knelt beside Nihlus’s body. “He was with us on the _Norm_ —”

“Something’s moving!” Williams’s gun swung up. “Over behind those crates!”

Three more guns trained themselves on the crates as someone shouted, “Wait! Don’t—don’t shoot! I’m one of you! I’m human!” A pair of hands rose into view, then a head, then a torso—all belonging to a terrified dockworker.

Cade gritted his teeth in a brutally false smile rather than biting the man’s head off as the four of them lowered their weapons. “I like the way you hid behind those crates during the fight. Really helped us out. Thanks a lot.”

“Me?” he asked blankly. “But…but I’m just a dockworker. I don’t even have a weapon. My name’s Powell—I saw what happened to that turian. The other one shot him!”

“Other one?” Wilder repeated.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cade demanded.

“There were two turians here: your friend, and another one he called Saren. I think they knew each other. Your friend seemed to relax; he let his guard down. And Saren killed him. Shot him right in the back. I’m just lucky he didn’t see me behind the crates.”

“Commander, the beacon,” Wilder murmured.

“We were told a Prothean beacon was brought to the spaceport,” Cade said. “What happened to it?”

“It’s over on the other platform,” Powell said quickly. “Probably where that guy Saren was headed. He hopped on the cargo train right after he killed your friend. I knew that beacon was trouble. Everything’s gone to hell since we found it. First that damn mothership showed up, then the attack—”

“Save it,” Cade told him.

“What about the mothership?” Wilder asked.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before. It—it was huge. Landed over near that platform. The whole place got dark as it came down. And—and it was making this _noise_ , this—this sound that bored right into your brain. The attack came a few minutes later.”

“We need to find that beacon,” Cade interrupted.

“Take the cargo train,” Powell said, backing away. “That’s where the other turian went. I…I can’t stay here. I need to get away from all this!” He was turning and running before he had even finished.

“Coward,” Williams muttered.

“On the train, now,” Cade said curtly. “We need to get to that beacon.”

“Maybe we’ll find this Saren guy,” Wilder suggested, following Cade onto the train platform. “Figure out what’s going on.”

“Or just kill him,” Cade replied dryly. “He shot a Spectre in the back; I don’t think there’s gonna be a lot of figuring out going on besides figuring what a bullet in the head feels like.” A tiny movement caught his eye, and he looked to see Wilder scrutinizing him with their head cocked to one side as Alenko flicked the switch to send the train to the second platform. “What?”

“I like you, Shepard.”

“You just decide that?”

“Yup.”

He couldn’t help a little of his smile slipping onto his face.

Williams’s voice interrupted, “Geth on the platform.” She raised her rifle, squinting down the scope. “It’s…doing something with a package on the ground… Shit! Demolition charge!”

“Take that geth down!” Cade ordered.

“Aye, sir!” Williams got down on a knee, waiting for the train to bring them in range, as Wilder’s hand glowed blue and Alenko tapped the band on his wrist to make his omnitool come to glowing orange life.

“What are you doing?” Cade asked.

“Fastest way to disarm that bomb is to link my omnitool to it and scramble the hell out of its countdown mechanism.” His fingers tapped away as Williams and Wilder waited…waited…

The hail of bullets and biotics that downed the geth had barely rung out and the train platform hadn’t yet come to a full stop by the time Alenko said, “Good news: That one’s down.”

“I hear a ‘bad news’ coming,” Wilder muttered.

“There’s three more. But their countdowns were synced—someone really wanted this place wiped off the map, and fast.” Alenko stepped off the platform, and Cade motioned the other two to follow him. “I can send you the hack I used to mess with the countdown.”

“Any way to help us find the other three?” Cade asked.

“I can rig a proximity sensor based on the other three countdowns. Give me a second.” It took only ten before Cade’s, Williams’s, and Wilder’s omnitools popped up with a file transfer ready. “Use that to find the charges and disarm them.”

Cade nodded twice, the only outward sign he gave of being impressed. “All right. There’s three more. Three of us go and each find a charge; one of us stays here to make sure nothing follows us. Wilder, how good are you with tech?”

“Absolute shite, sir,” they answered with an apologetic shrug.

Cade took a split second to raise his eyebrows before saying, “You’ll stay here, then. Alenko, Williams, choose your bomb.”

“I’ll take out that one that’s closest,” Williams volunteered. “I can come back and help the lieutenant when I’m finished.”

“There’s one just a little further away,” Alenko said. “I’ll take that one and then meet back up with you, Commander.”

“I’ve got the farthest one, then,” Cade said. “Alenko, how much time is left on the countdown?”

Alenko glanced at his omnitool and back up to Cade, sucking in a breath before saying, “Four minutes.”

“You have your assignments; move out, move fast, and maintain radio silence per Anderson’s orders. Go.” Cade waited for Alenko and Williams to dash off before glancing to Wilder. “You have the train station.”

“I absolutely do, sir.” Wilder turned to crouch behind a prefab that gave them a fairly good vantage point of the rail. “Go disarm those bombs.”

“I thought I was the one giving orders here,” Cade muttered, even as he turned to head for where the proximity detector told him the fourth demolition charge sat.

_Three minutes, thirty seconds._ Nothing on Cade’s heads up display besides the countdowns and the blinking dots next to them that represented his proximity to the charges. He set his eyes on the one with the slowest pulse and followed the arrow pointing to it.

_Three minutes._ As expected, the countdown next to the quickest-strobing dot—the closest one—stilled first. Cade nodded once to no one. Williams would be heading back to Wilder by now to help hold the train station.

_Two minutes, thirty seconds._ Cade almost commed Alenko to ask how he was getting along on the third charge before he remembered Anderson’s order of radio silence and cursed to himself.

_Two minutes._ Where the fuck was Alenko? For that matter, where the fuck was this demolition charge? The dot was definitely blinking faster, the arrow steadily pointing in the direction Cade was going, but he saw no sign of—

_One minute, thirty seconds._ Geth. Seven of them. _Fuck._ Cade all but skidded to a halt as the geth raised their guns. Apparently, one or more of them made noise, because his HUD noted that it was untranslatable. Cade could hazard a guess, though, that it was something along the lines of “drop your weapon.”

Slowly, slowly, he raised his hands, his mind racing for a solution as the third countdown finally stilled. Alenko was on his way, but if the frequency of the blinks for his charge were any indication of his location, he wouldn’t get to Cade before the geth put several holes in Cade’s body. Not an option, then.

_The geth haven’t been seen outside the Perseus Veil in hundreds of years._ A spark of a plan blipped into Cade’s mind. _Are there quarian biotics? Were there quarian biotics before they had to leave their homeworld? Would the geth have seen—_

_One minute._

_Fuck this._

He was a blur of blue for a split second—then he was the merchant of death. The seven geth were all motionless on the ground in as many seconds. His Valkyrie rifle hadn’t even overheated.

His head snapped toward the arrow again, and there, sitting pretty on the ground right behind where the line of geth had once stood, was the demolition charge. Cade cursed aloud as he all but lunged for it, pulling up his omnitool and searching for the file Alenko had transferred him.

_Thirty seconds._

A tiny part of his brain noted that his squad stuck to the order of radio silence even with the countdown ticking toward _kaboom._ The rest of him was extremely preoccupied with figuring out what the hell he was supposed to do with Alenko’s hack.

_Fifteen seconds._

Cade was letting out a constant stream of curses under his breath as his fingers ran over the program, wishing his heart would calm the fuck down and let him _think,_ goddamn it.

_Ten seconds._

This was not going to work.

_Five seconds._

“Shit,” Cade snarled, blue raging to life along his hands as he grabbed the countdown clock embedded in the charge and _pulled._

With a snap of wires and the crackle of biotics, the clock came free—and the countdown disappeared from his visor. Cade froze, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the explosion—

It didn’t come.

Cade opened his eyes to an intact, dormant charge, and he let out the deepest breath of his life. Eden Prime would not be going up in four balls of fire. At least, not today.

His heart rate finally starting to slow, Cade looked up and around. A glow attracted his eye, and he squinted at its source before realizing what it must be.

He put a hand to his ear to activate his comm and said, “Normandy, this is Shepard. The beacon is secure.”

—

“I was getting worried,” Wilder commented.

“What for?”

“You kick the bucket, and I’m next in the line of fire for Spectre consideration, apparently.”

“You don’t want to be a Spectre?” Cade asked as Alenko and Williams marveled at the beacon.

“Being a Spectre would be fine. Would mean my anxiety wouldn’t be constantly kicking my ass about pissing people off or stepping on toes. Being in _consideration?_ No thanks,” Wilder snorted. “Just more people watching over my shoulder, waiting for me to mess up.”

Unnatural movement behind Wilder. Cade looked up sharply— _geth?_

_Williams._

She was being dragged toward the beacon, grabbing at nothing to stop her inexorable movement. Cade was moving before he quite knew what he was doing, pushing Wilder out of the way and lunging for Williams to drag her away from the beacon.

In hindsight, he really should have expected to feel an invisible something grab hold of him, tugging him forward even as he threw Williams behind him. In the moment, he could do nothing but struggle, even as something yanked him into the air.

_War._

_Ships descending on an already-burning city. Desperate screams—that Cade could_ hear.

_Decimation._

_Reapers._

And Cade remembered no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bighuge thanks to aeron spectreshepard (scottrydcrs on tumblr) for the insight into and help w cade's character. he's a finicky bastard, and aero helped me a lot. cheers, dude


	3. Moynihan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lower-decks engineer gets involved--or was already involved. He's all-service: realizing connections, exchanging gossip, fixing shotguns.

Chief Engineer Adams was overworked. Furiously trying to pinpoint the problem with the drive core even as the _Normandy_ hurtled toward the Citadel. So when the request came in from the lieutenant to _please fix this,_ Adams’s eyes roved around and landed on the bespectacled corporal off to the side, still setting up his workspace. “Moynihan, can you take care of that?” he asked, already returning to his task.

Noel had no opportunity to refuse.

He didn’t have to go far, at least. The lieutenant sat in front of their equipment locker, cradling something in their lap. They looked up at Noel’s first tentative call of “Lieutenant…?” and jumped to their feet, pushing the object at him.

It was a shotgun. It looked almost absurd—and yet, perfectly at home—against a stocky body at least six inches shorter than Noel’s. “It jammed on the mission to Eden Prime. Can you help me?”

Noel’s words stopped somewhere between brain and mouth. Instead, he blurted a name: “Wilder?”

The lieutenant pulled up short. “Do I…know you?”

_Yes, you know me; I owe you my life._ “No, sir, it’s just…” He tossed around for something, and his mind decided that the best thing to do was to hold out the notepad he still held in his hand and say, “Can I have your autograph?”

Wilder stared at him for long enough that Noel began to feel _supremely_ awkward before saying, “Uh…sure.” Hefting the shotgun into the crook of their arm, they took the notepad and the pen—Noel worried that they’d think him old-fashioned for using paper—and scribbled a hasty signature. “Yeah. There,” they said, just as awkward as Noel, handing the pad back. “Can you…take a look at my gun?”

“Sure.”

It was pressed into his hands quickly. Noel ran his fingers over the surface, feeling the scratches that evidenced Wilder’s attachment to the gun. None of them seemed enough to disable the weapon. “I…think I’ll have to take it apart to figure out what’s wrong.” It was the calmest thing he could say in the face of a superior officer—whom he had just asked for an _autograph_ —and their definitely-not-standard-issue shotgun. How had they even gotten it onto the ship?

“Can you have it done by the time we get to the Citadel? Should be several hours.”

It would mean constant, focused work for all those hours. But it was Duke Wilder asking. “Yeah. Of course.”

—

Noel growled a curse as he tugged at the last magnetized screw holding the shotgun together. The jam was right past that stubborn plate; if he could _just_ —

“Need a stronger magnet?”

“Probably,” Noel grunted, tugging at the plate once more. “Seeing as I should have one in the first place.”

Adams’s chuckle retreated for a few seconds before his hand set something on Noel’s workbench. “Here.”

Noel’s tongue stuck out a little at the corner of his mouth, tense where his hands absolutely couldn’t be as he took the magnet and carefully, carefully lowered it toward the screw.

With a soft _ping,_ the screw snapped out of its slot and flew to attach itself to the magnet, and Noel let out his breath. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

“Just call me Adams already, Moynihan. I get enough of ‘lieutenant’ and ‘sir’ from everyone else.”

Noel let a smile cross his face at that. “If you say so.”

“Count me grabbing that magnet for you as my apology for shoving this onto you so suddenly. I think I was still a little shellshocked by the Commander dropping into a war zone in the middle of a shakedown run.”

“Do we know what happened yet?” Noel frowned at the plate as he gently wiggled it free.

“The captain’s being unusually tight-lipped about the whole thing. I’ve heard that they came back without the Spectre, that they came back with a new marine, that the Commander’s in the medbay… Not sure what to believe yet.”

Noel turned the frown on Adams. “Captain hasn’t told you anything yet?”

“Nope,” Adams sighed. “You know everything I do, kid, like always.”

“Weird,” Noel muttered, returning to the shotgun. “You’re usually one of the first people he tells about stuff.”

“It has me nervous,” Adams confessed. “If it’s this secret, it’s probably dangerous. And you’re the only other engineer here who’s served under Captain Anderson. You’re the only one who knows how strange it is that he hasn’t told us anything.”

“Dangerous secrets don’t end well,” Noel murmured. “Ever.”

“You would know,” Adams conceded. “Hopefully no giant alien monsters this time.”

Noel’s hand—thankfully nowhere near the delicate work needed on the shotgun—twitched. “Hopefully,” he agreed, very quietly.

“Hey.” Adams put a gentle hand on Noel’s shoulder. “You’ve gotta be nervous about being this close to the front lines again. I only asked the favor to have you transferred to the _Normandy_ because I thought you’d recovered enough. And, well, I need you and your tech skill around with all these fresh-faced privates looking at me like pyjaks in the headlights. But if you ever feel like it’s too much, especially with all this craziness already happening—let me know. The last thing I wanna do is make your mental state worse.”

“I know twenty-three might seem young to you, but you really don’t need to baby me, Adams.”

“Are you calling me old, Moynihan?”

“You did that yourself, when you called the rest of the engineers ‘fresh-faced.’ I’m one of the youngest in the department, you know.”

“Okay,” Adams laughed. “Now I know you’re gonna be fine.” He started walking backwards. “Let me know when you’re done; I have some work for a young whippersnapper like you!”

Noel’s smile only fell when Adams turned away and Noel turned back to the gun. His eyes caught on a series of scratches on the panel he had just removed—not random enough to have been put there in combat. Noel turned the plate around, and the marks resolved themselves into a spiky, messy word: DUCHESS.

Noel’s smile peeked back out at the corner of his mouth as he set the panel aside again. “Okay, Duchess,” he murmured, leaning over the workings of the shotgun and swinging his magnifying lens down over it, “tell me what’s wrong.”

It became apparent quickly: the projectile shaver had cut a piece from the ammunition metal that was ever so slightly too big for the weapon’s barrel. If Wilder had kept firing, the gun could quite literally have blown up in their face. They must not have fired it even once after the jam, which meant either that they were very lucky, or that this had happened to them before. Either way, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. “Who the hell optimized the shaver on this thing?” Noel muttered.

Whether lucky or experienced, it didn’t matter. A marine on a front-line ship should _never_ have a jammed gun. Noel sighed, squinted through the lens, and set to work.

—

Noel hefted Duchess into his clean-gloved hands, making sure once again that the scratched-in name of the gun was still easily visible after his careful avoidance of it as he buffed the panels. Checking the final all-green diagnostic on his omnitool one last time, he started for the doors to the cargo bay.

Wilder looked up as the doors opened—but not at the door Noel was stepping through. “Commander. You’re awake.”

Noel froze, suddenly glad that Wilder had not seen him.

“They didn’t tell you?” a deep voice said in some heavy Celtic accent Noel couldn’t quite place.

“They were probably more worried about making sure you were okay than letting me know you were. That thing threw you five meters, Shepard.”

“I’m fine,” the Commander said dismissively. “I’ve heard what Williams and Alenko had to say about what happened. I wanted to hear your take.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember just fine, Wilder, but I probably don’t remember the same things as you. What happened?”

“Not a whole lot to tell, sir. You pushed me aside, shoved Williams out of the way of whatever was pulling her toward the beacon, and something lifted you into the air instead. You got thrown—and the beacon shattered. Evac shuttle got there pretty quick after.” Noel heard Wilder hesitate. “How are you feeling?”

“You realize you’re the fourth person to ask me that since I woke up?” Shepard asked dryly. He was in Noel’s view now: a giant of a man, all but dwarfing Wilder when they hopped down from their perch on top of a stack of cargo containers.

“Shepard, I’ve been worrying about you for seven years.”

“Don’t.” Noel physically shrank back at Shepard’s sudden forbidding tone, and he squeezed his eyes shut and took a step back toward the doors to engineering, willing Wilder to drop the subject of a memory that was far less fond for him than for the Hero of Elysium.

“All right,” Wilder acquiesced, and Noel breathed out, still wondering whether he should just leave. “I won’t. So long as we’re on the same page. It was a fucked-up time, and any hero worship either of us gets for it comes from misunderstandings and—and propaganda. Not from what actually happened.”

“Good.”

There was silence for a few seconds—a lapse in conversation? Noel took a step forward, wondering whether now was the time to return Duchess—

“It’s not the only thing I’ve been reminded of,” Wilder said, quieter. “There’s been a lot of shitty coincidences that mean I know a fair few of the crew already. Kaidan’s obvious; we were at Jump Zero together. Shitty time all around. And there’s this one engineer—I didn’t know if I should mention it, but I know him too.”

Noel’s breath stopped in his lungs. _Don’t._

“Jesus, last time I saw him he was even scrawnier than he is now, sixteen years old and hiding in a fucking cave on Mindoir.”

An aborted noise came from somewhere, and Noel realized dimly that it was his subconscious trying to make him breathe.

“I guess we’ve all got some awful shit in common,” Wilder remarked.

Shepard looked up—past Wilder. At Noel.

Noel fled.

He didn’t take a breath until he was back at his workbench, and even then his inhale was shaky at best. It made more sense, obviously, to just comm Lieutenant Wilder and ask them to pick up their shotgun. The Marines had less to do at this point than the engineers, and hadn’t Adams said he had work for Noel? Yes, comming Wilder was the best option at this point.

“Engineering to Wilder.”

“Go ahead.”

“I finished the work on your gun; do you mind coming to pick it up?”

He left his workbench almost before Wilder said, “On my way.”

His feet moved quickly, almost stumbling to where Adams was still at work on the drive core. “You said you had work for me, Adams?”

“Yeah, I—” Adams stopped mid-turn when he saw Noel. “Moynihan, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Noel answered briskly. “What do you have for me?”

Adams hesitated half a second longer. “All right,” he said with admirably little doubt in his voice. “I need someone up at that panel,” he pointed up at a screen on the other side of the core, “with steady hands and good timing. Grab a ladder, get up there, wait for my call.”

Noel forced his hands to keep from shaking as he lifted the tallest ladder from the corner and positioned it under the panel. Motion on the other side of the bay caught his eye as he climbed, and he paused, watching Wilder’s hands hesitate over their newly polished shotgun before picking it up from Noel’s workbench. They looked around, and Noel couldn’t look away before their eyes landed on him and they smiled.

_Even scrawnier than he is now, sixteen years old and hiding in a fucking cave on Mindoir._

Noel turned away and kept climbing.


	4. Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cade knows what he wants, and he's not stopping until he gets it. Maybe not even then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this thing basically doubles the word count. i'm sorry

“This is an outrage!”

Cade watched Donnel Udina rail at the three holograms—one turian, one asari, one salarian—with his arms crossed. He idly noted that the four _Normandy_ marines must have made a hell of a picture, and he was almost grateful for the variety of expressions the others wore. He schooled his own face into professionalism. The Council was watching them—watching _him._

“Citadel Security is investigating your charges against Saren.” The hologram hid none of Councillor Tevos’s growing apathy. “We will discuss the C-Sec findings at the hearing. Not before.” The holograms blinking out cemented her finality.

Udina turned his head and his frustration to the visitors in his office. “Captain Anderson,” he said tightly. “I see you brought half your crew with you.”

“Just the ground team from Eden Prime,” Anderson answered. “In case you had any questions.”

Udina cast a critical eye over the four marines, and Cade raised his chin a little, sizing Udina up right back. The ambassador was clearly a politician rather than a true diplomat.

“I have the mission reports,” Udina said, returning his attention to Anderson after a few seconds lingering on Cade. “I assume they’re accurate?”

“They are,” Anderson said. “Sounds like you’ve convinced the Council to give us an audience.”

“They were not happy about it,” Udina said curtly. “Saren’s their top agent. They don’t like him being accused of treason.”

“Saren’s a threat to every human colony out there. Possibly other races’ colonies too,” Wilder said with a quiet anger in their voice. “He needs to be stopped; the Council has to listen to us.”

“Settle down, Lieutenant,” Udina said, even as Cade threw Wilder a sharp glance and their posture stiffened. “You’ve already done more than enough to jeopardize your candidacy for the Spectres, as well as Shepard’s. The mission on Eden Prime was a chance to prove you two could get the job done. Instead, Nihlus ended up dead, and the beacon was destroyed.”

“That’s Saren’s fault,” Anderson pointed out. “Not Wilder’s, and not Shepard’s.”

“Then we’d better hope the C-Sec investigation turns up evidence to support our accusations,” Udina said darkly. “Otherwise, the Council might use this as an excuse to keep you both out of the Spectres.” He turned and started away. “Come with me, Captain. I want to discuss a few things before the hearing. Shepard, you and the others can meet us at the Citadel Tower, top level. I’ll make sure you have clearance to get in.”

The door had barely closed behind Udina and Anderson before Williams muttered, “And that’s why I hate politicians.”

“Why is _C-Sec_ investigating?” Wilder burst out. “They’re glorified cops; they’re not gonna have a chance against a Spectre.”

“Stow it,” Cade warned both of them. “The hearing’s soon. We can tell what we know there.”

“If the Citadel elevator gets us there in time.” As they started from the office, Wilder looked up as if gauging how much time they would take to reach the Citadel Tower.

Cade ignored the comment as they passed a glowing Avina directory VI and the asari receptionist for the Citadel embassies. He turned a sharp right into the elevator that had carried them to the embassies. As the doors closed and the elevator started serenely upwards, he looked up too and subtly straightened his back. If he were lucky, the top of that elevator promised freedom—or at least rules easier to bend than Alliance regs.

One long, slow upward ride later, they stepped out of the elevator—right into an argument between two turians.

“Saren’s hiding something!” This one was younger; the plates of his face not so rugged as the other’s, his voice faster. “Give me more time. Stall them!”

“Stall the Council?” the other snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your investigation is over, Garrus.”

“But—” The younger turian cut himself off as the older, without another word, turned his back and started away. He took a moment to hiss something that Cade’s visor registered as an expletive before taking notice of the four humans stopped outside the elevator to watch. Blue eyes in dark sockets flicked to the telltale red-and-white stripe on Cade’s armor, and the turian started for them at a clip. “Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian. I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren.”

“Who was that?” Cade asked shortly, jerking his chin after the other turian.

“That was Executor Pallin, head of Citadel Security. My boss. He presented my findings on Saren to the Council.”

“Doesn’t sound like there was much to present,” Cade remarked acidly.

“Saren’s a Spectre,” Vakarian sighed. “Most of his activities are classified. I couldn’t find anything solid.”

“Called it,” Wilder murmured behind Cade.

Vakarian turned what could only be a frown on them. “But I know he’s up to something,” he insisted. “Like you humans say, I feel it in my gut.”

“Like we humans say,” Williams retorted, “you’re preaching to the choir.”

“I think the Council’s ready for us, Commander,” Alenko said, forestalling any sharp admonition Cade might have made and nodding toward the other side of the circular catwalk.

An asari aide in a neat knee-length skirt caught sight of them and beckoned to them as Vakarian said, “Good luck, Shepard. Maybe they’ll listen to you.”

“Commander Shepard,” the aide said in that smooth, professional way that aides had collectively perfected. “The Council will see you now.”

“Take us to them.”

The asari’s pace was as methodical and deliberate as her voice, and Cade quickly found himself wanting to just step past her and run up the three sets of stairs to the Council chamber proper. Finally, the asari turned and bowed, gesturing them through the door. “The Council is waiting for you.” Her job done, she started off with that same straight-backed processional walk.

Cade lifted his chin and started to take a step toward the door.

“Shepard?”

He looked behind him at the other three. All of them were standing tall, still in armor, shoulders back and ready for anything. “We’re with you, Commander,” Alenko said firmly. “We have your back.”

Cade took a moment to look to each one of them—Wilder, chin turned up to look him right in the eye from a foot below him, Alenko’s steady, calm brown eyes, Williams’s quiet fire of anger. He nodded once. “With me.”

And he turned and entered the Council chamber.

Anderson met them just past the door. “The hearing’s already started; come on.” He led Cade up one final set of stairs to where three podiums—and their respective councillors—stood across from a bare floor for plaintiffs and witnesses.

“The geth attack is a matter of some concern,” Tevos was already saying. “But there is nothing to indicate Saren was involved in any way.”

“The investigation by Citadel Security turned up no evidence to support your charge of treason,” Councillor Sparatus agreed.

_They wouldn’t have._ Cade could all but feel Wilder’s frustration behind him. _They don’t have access to it._

“An eyewitness saw him kill Nihlus in cold blood,” Udina ground out, facing down the Council.

“We’ve read the Eden Prime reports, Ambassador.” Councillor Valern sounded almost bored. “The testimony of one traumatized dockworker is hardly compelling proof.”

“I resent these accusations.”

Cade hadn’t noticed the larger-than-life hologram beside the Council until it spoke, and his eyes narrowed when he saw it was another turian. _You must be Saren._

“Nihlus was a fellow Spectre,” the hologram insisted. “And a friend.”

“That just let you catch him off-guard!” Anderson snapped.

“Captain Anderson.” Saren sounded almost patronizing. “You always seem to be involved when humanity makes false charges against me.” He turned glowing holographic eyes on Cade. “And this must be your protégé. Commander Shepard. The one who let the beacon get destroyed.”

Cade’s jaw tightened. “The mission to Eden Prime was top secret. Even I didn’t know about it until we were about twenty minutes from the planet. The only way you could know about the beacon is if you were there.”

“With Nihlus gone, his files passed on to me,” Saren said dismissively. “I read the Eden Prime report. I was unimpressed. But what can you expect…from a human?”

“I wasn’t aware humanity were the ones standing accused here,” Cade shot back.

“Your species needs to learn its place, Shepard. You’re not ready to join the Council. You’re not even ready to join the Spectres!”

Cade stiffened, hot anger flaring in his chest. “He has no right to say that!” Udina shouted, thankfully before Cade could form a more insulting sentence. “That’s not his decision!”

“Shepard’s admission into the Spectres is not the purpose of this meeting.” Tevos looked sternly from Saren to Udina.

“This meeting has no purpose,” Saren snapped. “The humans are wasting your time, Councillor. And mine.”

“You can’t hide behind the Council forever,” Cade snarled.

“There’s still one outstanding issue,” Anderson said, taking back control before the argument became a real fight. “Commander Shepard’s vision. It may have been triggered by the beacon.”

_May have? The thing lifted me off the ground and threw me like a ragdoll after it was done spitting into my brain._

“Are we allowing dreams into evidence now?” Saren asked sardonically. “How can I defend my innocence against this kind of testimony?”

“I agree,” Sparatus said. “Our judgment must be based on facts and evidence, not wild imaginings and reckless speculation.”

“Do you have anything else to add, Commander Shepard?” Valern asked, and Cade sensed a bitter end.

“You’ve made your decision,” he said. “I won’t waste my breath.”

“The Council has found no evidence of any connection between Saren Arterius and the geth,” Tevos said formally. “Ambassador, your petition to have him disbarred from the Spectres is denied.”

“I’m glad to see justice was served,” Saren simpered, and Cade ground his teeth as the hologram faded out.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Tevos finished, and Cade was the first to turn on his heel and walk out without a word. The team hurried after him as Anderson fell into step and Udina lingered for a few seconds before following.

“It was a mistake bringing you into that hearing, Captain,” Udina fumed, half-jogging to catch up with Anderson and Cade. “You and Saren have too much history. It made the Council question our motives.”

“I don’t think it would have mattered if we’d brought Nihlus himself with us!” Wilder burst out. “What happened to due process of law? Since when do the Council act as defense lawyers for the accused?”

“Lieutenant,” Udina snapped as they all descended back to the elevator. “That’s enough.”

“They have a point, sir,” Alenko said. “That was hardly a fair hearing; they let Saren talk while you were making your case.”

“Commander, keep your team in check,” Udina growled.

Cade quashed his first instinct to make a heated reply and instead shot a look and a _cut it out_ gesture at the two lieutenants. He turned back around after only a split-second view of Wilder’s expression of indignant shock.

“I know Saren,” Anderson said darkly. “As long as he’s still at large and a Spectre, we’re not safe. No human is.”

“You know Saren?” Wilder repeated, and Cade nearly told them to shut up again before Anderson answered.

“I worked with him on a mission a long time ago,” he admitted. “Things went bad. Real bad.” He glanced around. “We…shouldn’t talk about this here. But I know what he’s like—and he has to be stopped.”

Cade treated Anderson to one more second of a hard, searching look, trying to find any clue, before he asked, “What’s our next step?”

“As a Spectre, he’s virtually untouchable,” Udina admitted, and even with Saren hanging over their heads, Cade felt a small thrill.

_Virtually untouchable. Must be nice._

“We need to find some way to expose him.”

“What about Garrus, that C-Sec investigator?” Alenko asked. “We saw him arguing with the Executor.”

“He was asking for more time to finish his report,” Williams broke in eagerly. “Seemed like he was close to finding something on Saren.”

“We need to know how to contact him first,” Wilder said. “Without Saren being able to find out about it, for safety.”

“I have a contact in C-Sec who can help us find Garrus,” Udina said. “His name is Harkin.”

_That’s the first useful thing you’ve—_

“Forget it,” Anderson snorted. “They suspended Harkin last month—drinking on the job again. I won’t waste my time with that loser.”

_Never mind._

“You won’t have to,” Udina said, his usual acid tone returning. “I don’t want the Council using your history with Saren as an excuse to ignore anything we turn up. Shepard will handle this.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Cade told him firmly.

“I need to take care of some business,” Udina said, already starting away. “Captain, meet me in my office later.”

Wilder waited until the elevator doors had closed behind Udina before their frustration boiled over. “How can he just kick you off the investigation like that?” they seethed to Anderson. “You’re the CO of the ship that responded to Saren’s attack, no matter your personal history!”

“The ambassador’s right, Duke,” Anderson placated. “I need to step aside.” He looked up at Cade. “If you want to find him anyway, Harkin’s probably getting drunk at Chora’s Den. Dingy little club in the lower section of the wards.”

“Is there any other way to get evidence on Saren?” Cade asked. Wilder’s scathing words echoed in his head: _They’re glorified cops; they’re not gonna have a chance against a Spectre._

“You should talk to Barla Von, over in the financial district.” Anderson’s voice dropped. “Rumor has it he’s an agent for the Shadow Broker.”

“The Shadow Broker?” Williams repeated.

“An information dealer.”

“ _The_ information dealer,” Wilder corrected quietly.

“Buys and sells secrets to the highest bidder. I’ve heard Barla Von’s one of the top reps. He might know something about Saren, but the information won’t come cheap.”

_Better than dealing with goddamned cops._ Tucking the Broker agent away in his mind, Cade folds his arms. “You and Saren have a ‘history’? What happened?”

Anderson glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure Udina was gone before he talked. “About twenty years ago, I was part of a mission in the Skyllian Verge. I was working with Saren to find and remove a known terrorist threat. Saren killed the target. But a lot of people died along the way. Innocent people. And the official records just…covered it all up.” Anderson took a breath, composing himself before he ever let his anger grow. “But I saw how he operates. No conscience, no hesitation. He’d kill a thousand innocent civilians to end a war without a second thought.”

Cade’s silence turned stony, his face hardening until Anderson realized the inadvertent connection. “Ah, hell. I’m sorry, Shepard. Didn’t mean to do that. Thing is, Saren doesn’t even look for another option. He _likes_ the violence, the killing. And he knows how to cover his tracks. He’s not like you; he doesn’t take responsibility.”

“I should go,” Cade said flatly.

Anderson nodded, admitting his mistake and his defeat in the one motion. “Good luck, Shepard. I’ll be in the Ambassador’s office if you need anything else.”

“Let’s go,” Cade said shortly to his team.

The elevator ride back to the Presidium was spent in disgruntled silence. At least Wilder managed to control their smoldering frustration enough to ask calmly, “Where to, Shepard?” as the doors opened again.

“Financial district,” Cade answered. He was better at dealing with almost-criminals than with cops.

The Avina console he passed picked up his words, and the holographic purple asari popped up, giving directions a split second after Cade had already taken them. The “financial district” was less of a district than a few offices across the artificial lake from the embassies.

_Barla Von,_ Cade’s visor told him helpfully as they approached one of the biggest offices along the walk. “Here,” he said, turning to the door. “Be ready for anything.”

The rotund volus behind the desk looked up when the four marines trooped into his office. _What’s this?_ he asked, the light on the speaking-port of his full-body suit blinking. _Four of the Earth-clan?_ His eyes landed on Cade, and if the expression on his pressure suit could change, Cade was sure the eyes would have brightened with recognition. _Ah, a very famous one, yes? You are the one called Shepard. You were at Torfan, correct? You led the final assault against the enemy._ He scrutinized the other three even as Cade stiffened. _Ah, and Wilder. It is a great honor to welcome the hero of the Blitz._

Cade glanced over his shoulder to find Wilder looking unimpressed. “You’ve got us at a disadvantage here,” they told the volus.

_Forgive me, Earth-clan. My name is Barla Von. My job makes it necessary to keep informed. I am a financial advisor to many important clients on the Citadel. When someone as important as yourself or Shepard arrives on the station, I take notice._

“I heard you work for the Shadow Broker,” Cade said. “Do you have any information about Saren?”

_You’re very blunt, Shepard,_ Barla Von observed. His long pauses to breathe noisily enough in that the visor noted them were starting to drive Cade mad. _But you’re right. I am an agent for the Shadow Broker. And I do know something about Saren. Normally, this information would cost a small fortune. But these are exceptional circumstances, so I am going to give it to you for free._

“What’s the catch?” Williams asked.

_There is no catch. The Shadow Broker is quite upset with Saren right now. They used to do a lot of business. Until Saren turned on him._

“Saren betrayed him?” Cade said, too impatient to even put real sarcasm in the words. “Imagine that.”

_No matter what you think of Saren, he’s not stupid,_ Barla Von said, holding up a small, cautioning hand. _He knows the Shadow Broker is a valuable ally. Turning on him doesn’t make sense unless something huge was at stake._ He paused for a long breath, and Cade almost throttled him. _I don’t know many details, but the Broker hired a freelancer to deal with it. A krogan mercenary._

“How do I find him?” Cade asked immediately.

_I heard he was paying Citadel Security a visit. If you hurry, you could probably catch him before he left the C-Sec Academy._

_Great, so I’m dealing with C-Sec anyway._ He remembered some semblance of manners, enough to say, “Thanks for the info,” before turning on his heel and leading his team back toward the embassies and the elevator.

“Hey, Commander?”

“What?” he snapped, turning.

Wilder had stopped by a console, and they gestured to it almost uncertainly. “Fast Transit can take us right to C-Sec.”

_I don’t_ want _to go right to—_ Cade reined himself in. “All right. You know how to work this thing?”

“Yep.” Wilder was already tapping the console, selecting their destination as a roofless skycar slid in next to the console, over the water. “Hop in.”

The only good thing about Citadel Fast Transit living up to its name was that Cade didn’t have a whole lot of time to get angrier or more anxious. When they arrived at the C-Sec Academy, he had a sneaking suspicion that his anger would have only made the situation worse anyway.

There was a krogan there, all right, towering over the human officer talking to him—and even the two turians standing tensely beside him with their clawed hands tight on their guns. None of them looked happy.

“Witnesses saw you making threats in Fist’s bar,” the human said. “Stay away from him.”

Cade held up a fist, signaling the others to stop and watch the situation before going in, as the krogan snorted, “I don’t take orders from you.”

“This is your only warning, Wrex.”

“You should warn Fist. I _will_ kill him.”

“You want me to arrest you?” the officer threatened.

The krogan bared sharp, shark-like teeth in a scarred grin. “I want you to try.”

The C-Sec officer backed down after only a few seconds, and Cade had a quick inkling of respect for the krogan. “Go on,” the officer said, trying to save face. “Get out of here.”

The krogan sneered as he started away, and when he finally looked away from the officer, he stopped short to avoid slamming directly into Cade. “Yes, human?” he asked, taking in the red N7 stripe and the decidedly not C-Sec armor.

“I’m trying to bring down Saren.” Cade lifted his chin, pushing down the uncomfortable feeling at talking to someone taller than him. “Barla Von said to talk to you.”

The krogan smiled once more. “Barla Von is a wise volus. We may share a common goal, human.”

“Spit it out.” Cade clipped his words. He was in no mood for cunning, not after the past few days of headaches and politicking ambassadors and turians with superiority complexes. “Are you trying to build suspense?”

The krogan let out a bark of laughter. “I like you, human. I’ve been hired to kill the owner of Chora’s Den. A man named Fist. He did something very foolish.”

_Let me guess, he betrayed the Shadow Broker._ His visor indicated the words came from his right, just behind him. He only needed a split-second glance to confirm it was Wilder. Apparently, they were getting more comfortable.

“He did,” the krogan growled. “A quarian showed up here on the Citadel, on the run. She wanted to trade information for a safe place to hid, so she went to Fist. He promised to arrange a meeting between her and the Shadow Broker. Instead, he contacted Saren.”

“Fist’s not too smart,” Cade said before he could stop himself.

“He’s just greedy.” The krogan shrugged one shoulder. “Saren paid him a small fortune for the quarian.”

_Why did Saren want her?_ Wilder asked.

“She has evidence connecting him to the geth.”

A jolt went through Cade, and he was sure it went through the other three humans too, because Alenko broke in, _If we get our hands on that evidence, we can prove that Saren’s a traitor! The Council will have to listen to us then._

“Where’s the quarian now?” Cade demanded.

“Last I heard, Fist still had her. Probably somewhere inside his club. You help me kill Fist, she’s all yours.”

“Time we paid Fist a visit,” Cade said, as his visor alerted him to soft popping noises from Wilder. Cracking knuckles didn’t do much in armor, but the signal was clear: they were as eager as Cade was.

“What about that turian Garrus?” Williams asked. “He wants to take Saren down too.”

_And he’s C-Sec._ “We can handle this on our own.”

“Wait, human.” The krogan was scrutinizing Cade. “My people have a saying: ‘Seek the enemy of your enemy, and you will find a friend. I am Urdnot Wrex, and I want to help you kill Fist.”

Cade’s lips twisted up in a smile. “I like that saying. My name’s Shepard, and I think we’re going to get along just fine, Wrex.”

—

_Think he knows we’re coming?_

Cade had a fair guess that Wilder’s question was sarcastic; Chora’s Den looked locked up tight and silent. “Bet he didn’t have time to give his bouncers Alliance training, though.” He raised a fist, giving his instructions fast and quiet. “Alenko, you find wherever Fist’s holed up and get his door unlocked. Williams, you cover him. Wilder, Wrex—you’re gonna help me make all hell break loose.”

His visor registered the sound of a shotgun reloading, and he could just picture the smile on Wilder’s face as they said, _Yes, sir._

“Now.”

Alenko and Williams sprinted for the door, Alenko staying low as the door slid open to reveal several handfuls of bouncers. Williams kept her gun up, shooting at the surprised thugs, as Alenko made his way to the back of the club. Cade, Wilder, and Wrex moved almost as one, charging the cluster of bouncers distracted by the two running Alliance soldiers. Wrex let out a krogan war cry in harmony with Wilder’s holler. Wilder halted with a biotic barrier skin-tight around them, letting the bullets bounce off, as they took a deep breath—and slammed their hand down on the floor. The lights hanging over the bar shattered, and the bouncers all but flew backward, slamming against walls and slumping down and leaving Alenko’s path clear.

“Wilder, don’t get ahead of us!” Cade snapped, dropping the barrier he’d had to hastily throw up to not get thrown himself.

“Sorry!”

“You don’t look sorry,” Cade muttered before he reared back and sent himself biotically forward, breaking up a recovering cluster of bouncers and setting about him with his Valkyrie rifle.

_At the door, Commander._

“Good; get it open.”

_Already done. Fist isn’t too great at technical security. Just muscle, it looks like._

“Excellent.” Cade raised his voice for Wilder and Wrex. “Get to the door!”

He only looked long enough to see Wilder running backward in Wrex’s wake as the krogan cleared a path with his spiky, armored forehead. Cade dove forward again, arriving at the door a split second before Wrex.

The room was suddenly silent, save for the odd groan of pain from some bouncer who was still alive. “Open the door.”

A shriek accompanied the whoosh of the door opening. “Stop right there! Don’t come any closer!”

“Warehouse workers?” Williams said incredulously.

“All the real guards must be dead,” Alenko murmured as Cade stepped forward.

“Stay back or we’ll shoot!” yelped one of the two terrified men.

“We just killed fifty bodyguards to get in here,” Cade said, deliberately keeping his voice low. Menacing. “What do you think I’ll do to you?”

“Uh, well, uh…” The first one lowered his shaking gun.

“Screw Fist!” the other blurted. “He doesn’t pay us enough for this!”

“This would be a really good time to find someone else to work for, then!”

“Yeah. Yeah, right. That’s a good idea.” The first one bolted. He looked like he had pissed his pants.

“I never liked Fist anyway,” the one who had complained about the pay confided before he, too, ran.

“Would’ve been quicker to just kill them,” Wrex grumbled.

“Shooting people isn’t always the answer,” Alenko offered.

“No, it’s the question. The answer’s usually yes.” Wrex grinned again as Cade jerked his chin at the _actual_ door to Fist’s office.

Alenko understood the unspoken order, and it was only a few tense, guns-raised moments before the door slid open.

Cade’s visor registered five guns cocking a split second before the only man in the office blurted, “Wait! Don’t kill me! I surrender!”

_Lame,_ Wilder muttered as none of them lowered their guns and Cade sized up the man he assumed was Fist.

“Tell me where the quarian is, and we don’t have to shoot you in the kneecaps.”

“She’s not here. I don’t know where she is! That’s the truth!” Fist blurted.

_He’s lying,_ Alenko and Williams said in near-unison.

_He’s no use to you now,_ Wrex added. _Let me kill him?_

“Wait!” Fist nearly tripped over himself amending his story. “I don’t know where the quarian is, but I know where you can find her!”

_How’s that any different?_ Wilder muttered.

“The quarian isn’t here. Said she’d only deal with the Shadow Broker himself.”

_Face to face?_ Wrex asked. _Impossible. Even I was hired through an agent._

Fist jumped on Wrex’s words, clinging to them as he rambled, “Nobody meets the Shadow Broker. Ever. Even I don’t know his true identity! But she didn’t know that. I told her I’d set a meeting up. But when she shows up…it’ll be Saren’s men waiting for her.”

“Tell us where that meeting is before I blow your lying head off.” Cade reined himself in. _Don’t overheat._

“Here on the wards. The back alley by the markets. She’s supposed to meet them right now; you can make it if you hurr—”

Fist never finished his last word. He dropped to the ground with a hole in his forehead, and Wrex lowered his gun as Cade whirled.

“Drop the gun, krogan!” Williams barked, her own rifle trained on him.

“The Shadow Broker paid me to kill him.” Wrex didn’t look fazed by Williams’s threat as he lowered his voice to growl that even Cade’s visor registered. “I don’t leave jobs half-done.”

“I’m in charge here,” Cade snapped right back. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again…” He left it hanging, but Wrex only shrugged.

“He was the only contract I had left. Don’t we have something more pressing to worry about?”

Wilder was frowning at Wrex, but they were the one to speak up. “He’s right. We have to get that quarian.”

“Back through the bar,” Cade snapped. “Go, go, go!”

The team didn’t hesitate, turning as one and running back through Chora’s Den. Alenko ran around the bar, Williams vaulted it, Wilder glowed blue and shot over it, and Wrex just crashed through it. Cade followed him with a shrug. _Not like Fist is gonna need it anymore._ “Keep moving!” he shouted as they slowed to let him take the lead. “We lose that quarian, we lose Saren!”

Hallways, catwalks, corridors—back alley. Cade opened his mouth to tell Alenko to get the door open, but it slid serenely open, splaying red light over a masked turian—and a hooded quarian.

_Did you bring it?_ Cade’s visor told him the turian assassin was saying.

_Where’s the Shadow Broker?_ the quarian snapped back. _Where’s Fist?_

Cade felt, rather than saw, the furious shiver go through Wilder as the turian’s hand slid down the quarian’s enviro-suit, admiring the way it hugged what curves she had. _They’ll be here. Where is it?_

_No way._ She stepped quickly back away from his hand. _The deal’s off!_

Cade was about to call out to her, to warn her of the other two sneaking up behind her, but the assassin did it himself with a flick of his head. But both the assassin and Cade had underestimated the quarian; in one smooth movement, she broke away from the assassins and threw something at the three of them—a grenade.

“That’s our cue!” Cade shouted.

It took barely a charge from him, a well-placed bullet from Williams, and a biotic throw into a pillar from Alenko for the battle to be over. Wilder and Wrex shared a put-out look as Cade jogged up to the quarian. “I’m Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy.”

_Fist set me up!_ Her mask obscured her face—and Cade wasn’t sure he’d be able to read quarian lips anyway—so his visor supplied her words. _I knew I couldn’t trust him!_

_Don’t worry about Fist._ Wilder fell in behind Cade. _He got what was coming to him._

“You have the evidence linking Saren to the geth?” Cade asked, signaling Wilder to hold their fucking tongue for once.

_Not so fast._ The quarian glanced from side to side with quick flicks of her helmeted head. _Not out here. We need to go somewhere safe._

“The ambassador’s office,” Alenko supplied. “It’s safe there. And he and Captain Anderson will want to see this anyway.”

—

_You’re not making my job any easier, Shepard._

“You’re going to have to turn around if you want me to understand you properly, Ambassador.” It wasn’t quite true, thanks to the visor, but Cade had his moment of petty enjoyment when Udina grudgingly turned to face him.

“Firefights in the wards? An all-out assault on Chora’s Den? Do you know how many—” He pulled up short at the sight of the two aliens entering his office, the quarian walking in the wake of Wrex shouldering his way in. “Who’s this?” He chose to question the less egregious of the two. “A quarian? What are you up to, Shepard?”

“You wanted proof Saren’s a traitor?” Cade jerked his head at the quarian. “She’s it.”

“My name is Tali’Zorah nar Rayya,” she said formally. “I have evidence that Saren is working with the geth.”

“We don’t see many quarians here,” Udina said. “Why did you leave the flotilla?”

“I was on my Pilgrimage. It’s a tradition among my people,” she explained to the few confused looks shot her way. “When we reach maturity, we leave the ships of our parents and our people behind. Alone, we search the stars, only returning to the Migrant Fleet once we have discovered something of value. In this way, we prove ourselves worthy of adulthood.”

_A poet,_ Cade noted to himself. “Tell us about this evidence you found.”

“I began hearing reports of geth during my travels. They’ve never ventured beyond the Veil, not since they drove my people into exile. I was curious. I tracked a patrol of geth to an uncharted world. I waited for one to separate itself from the others, then I disabled it and removed its memory core.”

“I thought the geth fried their memory cores when they died?” Captain Anderson asked. “Some kind of defense mechanism.”

“We couldn’t salvage anything from the ones on Eden Prime,” Alenko agreed.

_My people created the geth,_ Tali’Zorah said. _If you’re quick, careful, and lucky, small caches of data can sometimes be saved. Most of the core was wiped clean when I disabled the unit. But I salvaged something from its audio banks._ She pressed a button on her omnitool.

_Eden Prime was a major victory! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit._

“That’s Saren’s voice,” Anderson said in response to Cade’s questioning glance. “This proves he _was_ involved in the attack.”

“He’s not getting out of this one,” Wilder said. “Not even with all the political pull in the universe.”

_There’s more,_ Tali’Zorah warned. _Saren wasn’t working alone._

_The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit._

_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers._

Cade’s visor noted the last sentence as a second voice, and he worked to control his frustration, shooting another look to Anderson. _You know I can’t identify that myself._

“I don’t recognize that other voice,” Udina said, and Cade’s jaw clenched. “The one talking about Reapers.”

That pinged something in the back of his mind. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before, though.”

_According to the memory core, the Reapers were a hyper-advanced machine race that existed fifty thousand years ago. They hunted the Protheans to extinction, and then they vanished. That’s what the geth believe._

“Sounds a little far-fetched to—”

“The vision on Eden Prime,” Cade blurted, cutting Udina off. The images were flashing in front of him again, like they’d been simply waiting for him to remember them and now all wanted to be the first to present themselves. “I understand it now. I saw it. I saw the Protheans being wiped out by the Reapers.”

“Oh, the Council is going to _love_ this.” Even Cade’s visor registered the sarcasm dripping from Udina’s voice.

“Even if they don’t believe it, that audio log proves Saren’s a traitor,” Anderson reminded him.

“Sir, what about her?” Williams asked. “The quarian?”

_My name is Tali,_ she snapped. _Shepard, you saw me in that alley; you saw what I can do. Saren’s a danger to the entire galaxy. My Pilgrimage can wait for this._

Cade sized her up. He still couldn’t see her expression past her helmet, but she stood up straighter and looked him—he assumed—in the eye. “I’ll take all the help I can get,” he decided.

“Anderson and I will request an audience with the Council once more. Take a few minutes to, ah, collect yourself, then meet us in the Tower.”

Cade glanced down at himself when Udina cast a critical eye at him and his team. _Ah._ His armor _was_ spattered with a bit of blood. Maybe more than a bit. “Permission to go back to the _Normandy_ to clean up?”

“Granted.” Anderson was holding back a smile, damn him.

—

_Eden Prime was a major victory! The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit._

_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers._

“You wanted proof?” Udina gestured to the empty space between plaintiffs and Council to indicate the words still hanging in the air. “There it is.”

“This evidence is…irrefutable.” The turian councillor didn’t seem as reluctant as Cade thought he might. “Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status. All efforts will be made to bring him in to answer for his crimes.”

“I recognize the other voice—the one speaking with Saren,” Tevos said. “Matriarch Benezia. She’s a powerful asari—a guide and a mentor to my people. She’s a powerful biotic, and she had many followers. She’s a formidable ally for Saren.”

“She’s working with the geth too, then,” Cade concluded.

“I’m more interested in the Reapers,” Valern said. “What do you know about them?”

“Only what was extracted from the geth’s memory core,” Anderson answered. “The Reapers were an ancient machine race that wiped out the Protheans. Then they vanished.”

_The geth think the Reapers are gods,_ Tali’Zorah added. _And that Saren is the prophet for their return._

“We think this Conduit is the key to bringing them back. Saren’s searching for it; that’s why he attacked Eden Prime.”

“Do we even know what this Conduit is?” Valern asked.

“Saren thinks it can bring back the Reapers,” Cade said, folding his arms. _Does it matter, though?_ “That’s bad enough.”

“Listen to what you’re saying!” Sparatus scoffed. “Saren wants to bring back the _machines_ that _wiped out all life in the galaxy?_ Impossible. It has to be. Where did these Reapers go? Why did they vanish? How come we’ve found no trace of their existence? If they were real, we’d have found something.”

“I tried to warn you about Saren, and you refused to face the truth.” Cade clenched his fist as an alternative to charging across the space and throttling Sparatus. He settled for a warning: “Don’t make the same mistake again.”

“This is different.” Tevos held out a placating hand. “You proved Saren betrayed the Council. We all agree he’s using the geth to search for the Conduit, but we don’t really know why.”

“The Reapers are obviously a myth, Commander,” Valern said dismissively. “A convenient lie to cover Saren’s true purpose. A legend he is using to bend the geth to his will.”

“Fifty thousand years ago, the Reapers wiped out all galactic civilization. I _saw_ it,” Cade insisted, even as he felt the Council’s belief slipping away. “If Saren finds the Conduit, it _will_ happen again.”

“Saren is now a rogue agent on the run for his life,” Sparatus said. “He no longer has the rights or resources of a Spectre.”

“That’s not good enough!” Udina stepped forward again, taking the stage back. “You know he’s hiding somewhere in the Traverse! Send in your fleet!”

“A fleet cannot track down one man,” Valern said before Cade could snap the same thing in far less polite words.

“A Citadel fleet could secure the entire region!”

“Or it could trigger a war with the Terminus Systems,” Sparatus shot back. “We won’t be dragged into a galactic confrontation over a few dozen human colonies!”

_How is it possible to hate both sides of an argument?_ The solution was simple, to Cade: “Send me.”

Every eye snapped to him.

“I can take Saren down.” Cade did not waver.

“The Commander’s right,” Tevos said quietly after a beat of surprised silence. “There is a way to stop Saren that does not require fleets or armies.”

A thrill shot through Cade. _This is it._

“No,” Sparatus snapped. “It’s too soon. Humanity is not ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres.”

_This is definitely it._ “It was a turian Spectre who betrayed this council.” Cade lifted his chin, looking each Councillor in the eye. “And it was a human who exposed him.” _If I haven’t earned this, what have I earned?_

The Council shared looks, and Sparatus relented without words. “Commander Shepard, step forward,” Tevos said formally.

Cade’s heart was throwing itself against the inside of his armor as he stepped out in front of Udina. _This is it._

“It is the decision of the Council that you be granted the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel forces.”

Valern took over from Tevos: “Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle, whose actions elevate them above the rank and file.”

“Spectres are an idea, a symbol,” Tevos said. “The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will.”

“Spectres bear a great burden,” Sparatus warned. “They are protectors of galactic peace—both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold.”

“You are the first human Spectre, Commander,” Tevos finished. “This is a great accomplishment for you and your species.

_This is it._ Cade took a deep breath through the sense of success swelling in his chest. _I’ve been ready for this since Eden Prime._ “What’s my first mission?”


	5. New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the crew return to the Normandy, new comrades in tow, they adjust to their new mission and their new (and old) friends.

_No verdict yet on whether this will make him less insufferable or more._ Duke tried to keep their eyes on Shepard’s back as they headed back to the _Normandy_ ’s dock, but the two impromptu additions to the party had them sliding glances around to red armor and purple hood.

“I see you looking, human.”

Duke flinched, despite themself, at the growl from beside them. The krogan—Wrex—was glaring at them, but it turned into an amusedly feral grin. “Like what you see?” he asked.

“Well—your scars—you’ve been in a lot of battles—and probably won. So, um, I’m admiring them?” Duke sorely wished to go back and reconstruct those sentences.

Wrex let out a gravelly bark of laughter as Tali looked over at the two of them. “Don’t trip over your own feet like you trip over your tongue, human.”

“My name’s Duke,” they said automatically. “Duke Wilder.”

“And I am Urdnot Wrex. You can shut your food-hole now.”

Duke snapped their mouth shut automatically, and they felt their face burn under Tali’s soft giggle and Wrex’s growling snicker.

“Congratulations, Shepard. Heard they made you a Spectre.”

Duke perked up, glad of the distraction from their embarrassment. They stopped at the same time as Shepard. _Garrus,_ their mind identified the turian in blue armor. Different armor than he’d been wearing before? Loitering near the Normandy’s dock, and carrying a bag. _What’s he up to?_ Duke wondered deliberately.

“I’m glad somebody got the Council to see Saren for what he really is.”

Shepard did not take the three-clawed hand Garrus held out to shake. “Something I can help you with?”

Garrus dropped his hand. “Look. I resigned from C-Sec after the Council ignored my investigation. I was sick of all the politics.” His eyes roved over the team behind Shepard, and something about them—Duke wondered if it was their own skeptical expression at his declaration—made him deflate a little. “You’re the only one who seems to be doing anything about Saren. Let me come with you.”

Duke jumped in before Shepard could give the curt _no_ that was surely his reason for opening his mouth. “What did you find in your investigation?”

Garrus only glanced to them before looking back at Shepard, strengthening his voice and hopefully his case. “I found a lot of classified operations, but I also found unclassified reports from other departments from around the same times and the same places. He leaves a lot of destruction and no remorse. I couldn’t prove it in my investigation, but I knew what was really going on. Saren is a traitor to the Council and a disgrace to my people.”

“If I’m allowed to give my two cents, sir?” Duke threw a grateful look to Williams as she continued, “I think he’s definitely on our side, and if he was C-Sec, he can probably hold his own in a fight. I say let him come with.”

“And not a lot of people would have thought to check other departments’ reports for evidence,” Kaidan added. “If we’re gonna be doing a lot of investigating to chase Saren, Garrus seems like the kind of guy we want with us.”

“Fine,” Shepard relented. “You’ve all made your case.” He jerked his chin to Garrus. “Get on board, then. But it won’t be busywork like C-Sec. We have a mission, and we’re completing it no matter what.”

“I know,” Garrus said, hitching his bag onto his shoulder. “You won’t regret this, Shepard.”

“Fall in, Vakarian.”

Garrus stepped onto the _Normandy_ ’s docking ramp just behind Duke, using the low doorway as a cover to duck down and whisper, “Thank you.”

Duke gave him a smile over their shoulder. _I hope I don’t regret it, either._

—

“What’re you gonna do?” Kaidan asked as he and Duke headed back to the crew quarters, their armor and weapons stowed away and the _Normandy_ humming beneath them, preparing to leave the Citadel.

“Should probably call my mom,” Duke said, stretching their arms above their head. “I haven’t talked to her since before Eden Prime. Jesus, it seems like a week ago.”

“I know,” Kaidan sighed. “So much happened. I’m gonna get some rack time. Haven’t had enough of that lately.”

“Sweet dreams, Kaidan.” Duke waved him off to quarters and headed for the crew lounge. They only looked back once. It was…weird, coming into contact with Kaidan again after so long. Fifteen years? More than half their life ago when twelve-year-old Duke stumbled off a shuttle, scared out of their mind by the turians they’d shared it with, and found their first friend in a kind seventeen-year-old who offered to carry their duffel for them and gave them an informal tour of Gagarin Station. And it had only been a few months later when they were woken in the middle of the night by the station administrator, told to pack their bags, hurried onto another shuttle with no explanation, and never saw Kaidan again.

The pilot had taken pity on the scared tween in his shuttle, at least, and given as much clarification as he could. _An Alliance officer pulled rank to get a tour of the station, saw how the turians are treating you kids, and pitched a fit to get you specifically outta there._ Duke had never been so glad to see their mother waiting for them as at the end of that shuttle ride.

How had they not grown since then? Granted, geth and a mysterious race of ancient synthetics were somewhat more terrifying than overgrown turian bullies, but there was Kaidan, well-adjusted and adult, where Duke felt like they were drowning in the blackness outside.

_Call Mom._ Commander Hannah Wilder somehow always made Duke feel more comfortable and capable. Definitely at odds with how much she outranked them. Weird. Duke let themself grin as they allowed the door to the crew lounge to slide open before they stepped in.

Okay, so it wasn’t so much a crew lounge as a storage room that wasn’t used for anything else, but there were a few enlisted men in there. The lone marine snapped guiltily to attention when Duke walked in, and they were brought back with a blink to the present, where they were a Staff Lieutenant and co-head of the marine detachment. Weird. “Relax,” they said when the other two in the “lounge” followed the marine’s example. “We’re all off-duty here—I hope.”

“Yes, sir!” the marine said hastily. “Off-duty since eighteen-hundred, sir.”

“All right, I trust you. Have a good time.” Duke waved almost halfheartedly as they headed behind another row of storage crates to have some privacy.

The orange glow of their omnitool lit up the makeshift corner they sank down in, and they flicked easily to communications and pulled up the direct line to the _Kilimanjaro_ and its executive officer.

“ _This is Commander Hannah Wilder; I’m not available at the moment. If it’s urgent, please contact the Kilimanjaro FTL communications and ask for me. Otherwise, leave your name and message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”_

Duke groaned as Mom’s recorded voice played impassively at them. Just their luck that she’d be on duty and—most likely, if she didn’t answer when she saw it was Duke—in the presence of a superior officer or two. But they took a deep breath and dove in as soon as they heard the beep.

“Mom, hey, it’s Duke. A lot—a whole lot—has happened since we talked just before the _Normandy_ ’s jump. Shakedown run turned out to be a cover—you probably heard about the Prothean beacon and everything by now. But, yeah, I was on the team that was supposed to recover it. Wild times; I’ll catch you up when we can talk. But, uh, other than that it’s been—okay, I guess. Ha, yeah, aside from the rogue Spectre and the geth showing up, it’s been _fine._ God, that sounds ridiculous. I mean, uh, I have a new CO now; Captain Anderson stepped down when Shepard was made a Spectre—you probably heard about that too—so Shepard’s in charge now. Dunno if this is gonna mellow him out or just make him more of a hardass. Hope it’s the former; he’s been kinda harsh with me. And, I mean, I know why, kinda—I met him at Elysium. Rough day for him too. Maybe even rougher than for me. Plus—oh, jeez, you didn’t even know—apparently I was in consideration to be a Spectre too. I was his—I guess you could say I was his competition, but not really, because he was the only one _officially_ in consideration? I was the backup. I just…” Duke dragged a hand down their face, trying to get their thoughts in order. “It’s been a long few days. And…” They concentrated on sorting out feelings—Shepard as CO, Shepard as Spectre, Shepard as that N6 who freaked out on Elysium when he saw the _Camlann_ go down in the sky.

“I should talk to him,” Duke realized. “I need to talk to him. Bad for me and probably bad for the rest of the crew if we just let this stew. Right. I’m gonna do that. Love you, Mom. If you listened to this entire thing—sorry for just spouting all this at you. And thanks. I love you. Bye.”

—

“Commander?”

Shepard raised an eyebrow as he looked up from taking a panel off the side of the Mako land vehicle. Equipment maintenance was an odd pastime for an off-duty commanding officer, as Duke would have noted if they hadn’t been working furiously to remain straight-backed and professional. “Lieutenant.”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?” Shepard asked as he returned his eyes and his wrench to the Mako, crouching to reach into the mechanics of the axle.

“My conduct, mostly. I feel like I’ve made you think I—I don’t know—that I’m holding a grudge against you or something. And I’m not, I swear, i just—this is crazy, this whole situation—”

“Slow down.”

Duke took a deep breath, resetting themself and their words, focusing on Shepard instead of on Wrex and Garrus and Williams, who were sneaking glances and pretending not to listen. “Sorry. I just want you to know—I have no hard feelings toward you. I don’t hold anything against you, and I don’t think any less of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Shepard glanced at them momentarily again.

Duke hesitated for a split second. “Elysium.”

They saw the recognition in Shepard’s eyes before he turned them away again. “You don’t have to—”

“Shepard, I want to. I’m sorry if I made you think I don’t respect you because of—because of what happened at Elysium.” They looked down at their wringing hands, thinking for just a second of how their hand laid over Shepard’s in the rubble of Elysium and tears coursed down his face. “I was kind of messed in the head after that battle, too. I’m pretty sure I cried; I don’t remember much. But—”

“Wilder.” Shepard set the wrench down.

“Shepard?” Duke answered, resisting the urge to gulp.

“You can stop.” Shepard let out a long breath, sitting back on his haunches. “I know you don’t hold that against me. I’ve known. I just…”

A shot of empathy ran through Duke. _He’s tired too._ “You don’t have to,” they echoed.

“Yeah, I do.” Shepard looked up at them. “It’s been…hard.”

“Yeah, but you’re a Spectre now. Should make it a little easier, right?”

“I also have that vision whatever stuck in my head on loop,” Shepard said dryly. “You realize this is only the beginning, right? Saren’s still on the loose, he’s got the geth on his side, and we still don’t even know what these Reaper things are that he wants to bring back.”

“And all I do is glow blue.” Duke laughed halfheartedly.

“You wouldn’t be here if Anderson didn’t think you were worth it and fit for your job—or if I didn’t think so too. I’ve done some crew shuffling with our new mission, bringing on some new people, reassigning nonessentials. You’re staying right where you are. You can fight, Wilder, and you’re pretty decent as a department head.”

“Am I? I always feel like I’m micromanaging.”

“Keep doubting yourself, and I might reassign you too,” Shepard warned, but he gave Duke a glance that let them know he probably didn’t mean it. Probably. He looked back to the Mako, leaning forward to reach inside it again. “Just keep doing your job, and you’ll be fine, Wilder.”

Duke allowed themself a bit of a smile while he wasn’t looking. “Call me Duke.”

—

—

Noel’s hex wrench was missing. He’d let someone borrow it—Wu or Costa or someone else in repairs—and they hadn’t returned it. Problem was, Wu and Costa were both off-duty. Probably asleep. Noel couldn’t blame them. But he _could_ be peeved that they’d left without returning that wrench. It was a whole set, actually, contained in the one tool so the wrenches could fold out, so whoever it was had actually failed to return _ten_ hex wrenches, not one.

He shut his toolbox after another futile search to assuage his doubt that Wu or Costa _hadn’t_ returned it and he’d just forgotten. He maybe slammed the lid shut a little too harshly, but better to take it out on hard, durable plastic and metal than on people. Where had Wu and Costa last been working? Costa had been working with Adams. Adams knew Noel’s tools; he would have returned a ten-wrench set with _NM_ scrawled on the side in permanent marker, so it probably wasn’t Costa who had used it.

“Demarci? Moynihan.”

“Go ahead,” Costa and Wu’s boss, Serviceman Second Class Demarci, answered. She sounded so _professional,_ and Noel took a moment to remind himself that that was because he outranked her.

“Where was Wu last working? I think he borrowed some of my tools.”

“Cargo bay. It has some, uh, new denizens, and he was adjusting the enviro control for one of them.”

“We’re not supposed to adjust enviro control for anyone unless it’s a direct order or a shipwide consensus.”

“I know, sir. I told Wu. But, uh, when I saw who asked…I couldn’t really blame him.”

—

Noel sneezed violently, which was his first indication that something was wrong. He rubbed his nose, looking around the cargo bay for Wu or another engineer—and saw instead a hulking figure in red armor and a lankier one in blue.

A krogan and a turian were in the cargo bay.

Noel latched on to the first set of Alliance BDUs he saw, as far from the two aliens as possible—someone working on the Mako. “Um, do you know when we picked up the krogan and the turian?”

“On the Citadel.”

Noel took a step back when he realized who he’d bothered. But Commander Shepard didn’t seem too put off by Noel’s interruption, only glancing up before returning to squinting at the workings of one of the Mako’s power-drive wheels. He reached in with a tool in his hand—a very familiar tool.

“Sir, does that—does that hex wrench set have some initials on it?”

“I think so, yeah. Why?” Shepard asked without looking away from his work.

“Are they NM?”

“Sounds right.”

“Um…that wrench—it’s mine. Not that I’m asking for it back right now!” he added hastily when Shepard withdrew the tool to look at it. “You can keep using it; I was just doing an inventory of my tools before I went off-duty. And—is it hot in here?”

“One of the engineers upped the enviro control temp. Just in here. Wrex and Garrus come from warmer planets than we do.” Shepard glanced up at Noel, and Noel could swear he saw a smile as Shepard looked away and his hands disappeared into the Mako again. “The krogan and the turian.”

“Oh! Oh, okay. I should probably start, uh, avoiding here then. If they’re staying here.”

“Xenophobia isn’t gonna be tolerated now that we have alien crew—”

“No! No no no, that’s not what I meant! I’m just allergic. To turians. And asari, and elcor, and, uh, most alien species.” Noel rubbed at his nose, willing himself not to sneeze again. “I think krogan are the only exception. I’d probably be allergic to quarians if they ever came out of their suits.”

“Well then, you better hope she doesn’t,” Shepard said with a barely-contained snicker.

“Wait. Who?”

“I sent her to engineering. A quarian, also picked up on the Citadel. Her name’s Tali’Zorah.”

Noel felt his eyes itching just at the mention of a quarian working in engineering and a turian hanging out in the cargo bay. “I’ll make sure to say hello.” _She might actually be the person I’m least allergic to on this ship, so long as her suit stays on._ He remembered why he had been so surprised by Garrus and Wrex in the first place: “Are the brass gonna be mad that you brought aliens onto the crew?”

“The brass can’t do much to me.” Noel swore he saw a grin on Shepard’s face just before Shepard ducked his head further into the Mako. “I’m a Spectre now,” he said, his voice echoing in the metal workings.

“Oh! Right. Of course.”

And then everything came together in a beautiful flash in Noel’s mind. What he needed the hex wrench for, Shepard’s new Spectre appointment, and the not-necessarily-allowed things Shepard could do now. Noel fumbled in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small, approximately ellipsoid object that he played with quietly in his hands until Shepard backed out of the Mako, wiping his forehead with the back of the hand holding Noel’s wrenches. “Sir?” Noel said.

“Something else?”

Noel held out his pet project. “I’ve been working on this for a while now—” _since Akuze—_ “and I was thinking it wouldn’t be ready to use for at least another year or so, since I’d have to get it approved by the Alliance and everything, but now that you’re a Spectre—you could use it right away.”

Shepard looked at the object, then back up at Noel. “A combat drone? Those are Alliance-issue.”

“No, no, it’s modified!” Noel said excitedly. He tossed it into the air, and it hummed with its tiny mass effect field to keep it in the air as an omnitool-like projection appeared around it, a foot in diameter and rotating, ready for instruction. “I’ve upgraded its weapons—they’re better at breaking through shields and armor now. And when it’s destroyed, it uh—” he mimed a small explosion with his hands, complete with a quiet, awkward “ _pa-kow_ ” noise. “I call it, uh, I call it Franklin. It’s not quite done yet, but when it is, it could use some field-testing, and—”

“And I can field-test it without Alliance approval.” At least Shepard was smiling in some way, even if it was a smirk. It was a good sign. “Well, I—” Shepard cut off, his eyes flicking to the visor he wore over his eyes. “It can wait till later; I’m off-duty—” He paused again, and this time, he smiled. Not the smirk he’d given Noel—a real smile. “I’m in the cargo bay. Send him down.” His eyes moved back up to Noel, and he folded the wrench he’d been using back into the set. “Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

Noel’s hand hesitated toward it, his other catching the drone as it deactivated. “Do you still need it?”

“No, I’m done. Just have to put the panel back on. And you should finish up that Franklin drone of yours. I’ll definitely think about your offer.” Shepard nudged the wrench set toward Noel.

Noel grabbed the set back. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

“Wait, what’s your name? If I do want to try out your drone?”

“Moynihan. Corporal Noel Moynihan, sir.”

“All right. Get back to work, Moynihan.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Noel hurried back toward engineering, his brain practically buzzing with excitement. “Hear that, Franklin?” he asked the drone in his hand. “Commander Shepard might try you out in the field!”

His brain ground to a halt when he saw a purple-hooded figure standing in front of his workbench. It took a moment to get going again and remind him, _Tali’Zorah._ “Um, ‘scuse m—”

He’d felt the sneeze starting to build up, but it did nothing to prepare Noel for how quickly it would rush up on him, and definitely did not prepare him or Tali’Zorah for the explosive, shouting sound of it.

Noel sneezed, and Tali’Zorah yelped, whirling around. “I didn’t hear you!” she gasped. “Keelah! Are you all right?”

“Uh, fine, yeah. You?” Noel rubbed at his nose and his watering eyes with the back of his hand.

“Fine,” she said, bewildered. “You…you must be Moynihan.” His name sounded odd in her accent—she stumbled a little over the first vowel, altered the second, and elongated the third. Still, somehow it didn’t sound so awkward as when other people said it.

“You can just call me Noel. Did Adams tell you my name or something?”

“Yes, and he told me I could set myself up over here, but, um…where, exactly?”

“Oh—um, lemme—” Noel darted past her to his workbench, throwing his toolbox back open and tossing the hex wrenches in, followed by other tiny screwdrivers, magnets, tiny laser cutters, all haphazardly one on top of the other. “How much space do you need?”

“Oh—not much,” Tali’Zorah said. “I…don’t have a lot.”

“How’d you end up on the Normandy, Tali’Zorah?” Noel asked, deciding to just sweep his arm across the desk to clear the tiny parts spread across it from a space for her.

“You can just call me Tali. And I had evidence pulled from the memory core of a geth that connected Saren to them. Shepard saved me and presented the evidence to the Council, then allowed me to join the crew.”

“Wait—you extracted data from the memory core of a geth?” Noel turned to look at this slght, purple-hooded figure. He’d heard that quarians were a race of techies, but _damn._

“Sound bites, mostly. One in particular to incriminate Saren.” Tali nodded to the empty space. “May I…?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” Noel shuffled a few steps out of the way to let her set what little she had on the workbench, just as a wrench clanked down on its other side.

“I’m heading for a coffee break,” Adams told Noel as he walked past. “Don’t let anything break while I’m gone. And don’t sneeze behind the newbie again without letting her know it’s coming.”

—

—

“Commander? One of the new crew is asking to speak with you in person.” The serviceman who’d welcomed them to the _Normandy_ listened to the reply, shifting a little, before his face fell.

“Tell him my name.”

“Um, he says to tell you his name, sir…Scott Ryder?”

Scott knew it had worked when the serviceman relaxed. “The Commander is expecting you. He’s in the cargo bay,” he informed Scott.

“Thank you.” Scott hitched the strap of his duffel higher on his shoulder and headed for the elevator—easy enough to spot for an eye trained on starships and battlefields.

He was alone in the elevator as the doors closed, and he let his breath out in a long, steady sigh. Cargo bay. Same deck as engineering, if he remembered the specs he’d glanced at. “Deck…three?” The elevator began to move, and Scott hoped he had the right deck.

He did. He stepped out onto the cargo deck far more relaxed than when he stepped onto the _Normandy._ Thankfully, thankfully, there were only a few people there—a marine doing a rehearsed, methodical cleaning of an assault rifle, a krogan and a turian giving each other a wide berth— _there’s that “miscellaneous other crew” on the transfer roster_ —and—there.

Getting up from a crouch next to the land vehicle, already turning to see Scott. The serviceman probably didn’t know how right he’d been to say the Commander was expecting Scott.

It hadn’t even been that long, but Scott was as glad to see Shepard as if they’d been apart for years. He still kept his smile subdued, matching the small smile on Shepard’s face, neither breaking their professional bearing. Somehow, that smile still had almost all the warmth of Shepard’s biggest grin. “Commander,” Scott said.

“Ryder. Welcome to the _Normandy_.” Shepard held out his hand, and Scott shook it, letting his hand linger for the extra squeeze Shepard gave it. “Glad you agreed to the transfer. Need someone like you on the crew for this.” He dropped Scott’s hand and moved past him, calling over his shoulder, “I’m done in here. Let’s get you settled in, Ryder.”

They walked back to the elevator together in silence, grateful that the others in the cargo bay had dropped their gazes back to their own tasks. The doors closed, leaving just the two of them, and Shepard’s hand reached out to take Scott’s duffel bag off his shoulder and set it on the ground.

Cade hugged Scott, tight and heavy with all the new weight on his shoulders, and Scott knew as he hugged back that it wasn’t solely his talents as a recon specialist that brought him to the _Normandy._ “I’m glad you’re here,” Cade said again.

Scott didn’t reply until Cade had released him and stepped back. “It’s good to see you again, Cade.” He knew the visor Cade wore could make his words into text, but Scott would rather Cade read his lips rather than words on a screen. “I’m glad I could come.” It wasn’t everything he felt. But he never really said everything he felt anyway, and he didn’t think he could in this case.

A moment later, they stepped out of the elevator together. “Crew quarters are over there. Sleeper pods, mostly,” Shepard said, pointing. “My cabin’s over this way.” He started in the other direction from the crew quarters. “See you around the ship, Ryder.”

“Yes, sir.” Scott headed toward the sleeper pods and crew lockers, and he only looked back just as Shepard slipped into his cabin with a flash of gold eyes looking back at Scott too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee woo wee woo new pov character incoming! say hello to scott y'all he's our recon specialist and one of the less-useless gays in this squad
> 
> also, removed a lotta the relationship tags for the relationships that don't happen in me1; cu is only gonna cover that first game. don't worry; there will be two other fics for the other games if i can keep my head on track here, and those will have the proper ship tags.


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